


The Challenge

by amelia_day



Series: The Panem Nightlocks [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, College Football, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 95,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_day/pseuds/amelia_day
Summary: Gale Hawthorne is certain he’s never met a girl as opinionated, infuriating or attractive as Madge Undersee. And he’s met a  lot of girls. There’s a few things she ought to be certain of too, though.He loves a good challenge.And he hates to lose.*A part of 'The Bet' Universe*
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Delly Cartwright/Thresh, Gale Hawthorne/Madge Undersee, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Panem Nightlocks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632781
Comments: 718
Kudos: 456





	1. July 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All 'Hunger Games' characters and references belong to Suzanne Collins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The Challenge' takes place roughly one year before 'The Bet'. Enjoy!

* * *

_I was dreamin'_

_of bigger things and_

_wanna leave my old life behind._

-Imagine Dragons

* * *

I felt like an idiot.

Perched there under the harsh spotlight with a camera five inches from my face, it was hard not to. I hadn’t gotten into football to stand around posing like some model.

I sure as hell wasn’t a model.

I swallowed my pride and forced myself to tune out the background noise around me and focus on the task ahead. Like any good athlete did under pressure. Granted, that pressure usually came from a stadium filled with tens of thousands of screaming fans and a football field under my feet. Not the dumbasses I called teammates living up to their names on the sidelines of the photo-shoot set up.

“Looking hot, Hawthorne,” one of them called out, and the petite redhead behind the camera pulled back to study the shot for a moment. She probably thought I hadn’t noticed the way her eyes avoided contact with me, only glancing up when necessary, but I had. 

“Good. That’s good.” Quick glance up, and when our eyes locked she turned cherry red and looked back down. Jesus. “But uh, maybe a smile this time?” 

If possible, I felt my lips pull down tighter.

“Smile?” 

“Yeah, just something to make it look like you’re having a little more fun.”

“Fun?” I scoffed, repeating everything she said like some moron. It made her uncomfortable. I saw her eyes shifting, finger starting to twist a piece of loose hair just for something to do.

“It’s a game, after all,” she mumbled. “Should be fun.” 

“Come on, already. Flash your pearly whites and move on, I gotta take a piss.” 

I shot a glare off to the side and sighed. Tucking my helmet beneath one arm, I shifted on my feet and stared back at the focusing camera lens. 

Smiled.

It lowered again, and the redhead looked contemplative.

“Try not to look so…” she trailed off, making a small circling motion with her hand, like she couldn’t find the words.

“So what?” I asked when she didn’t finish the sentence, and she gnawed on her lower lip.

“...Constipated.”

Behind her, Finnick Odair howled with laughter. He was lounging in a chair, feeding himself grapes like some kind of celebrity wannabe as he watched on. He thought he was hot shit because he was the team's Quarterback--and he pranced around making sure everyone knew it, too. He was Panem’s golden boy, and could do absolutely no wrong. The perfect picture of _American glory._

Perfectly annoying. He busted my balls all season last year, showing off and taking credit for my plays whenever possible. He had two jobs--call the shots, throw the ball. But somehow, he always managed to turn it into a big production. 

I felt my jaw clench tight at his amusement, and the photographer blushed again, running a hand over the neck of her camera nervously. 

“Or--never mind. No smiles, what you’re doing works perfectly, actually,” she sputtered. “Maybe. Let’s try something more _ferocious._ Give me a growl.”

She demonstrated, bearing teeth--retainer and all--and holding a hand up like it was a claw.

“This is priceless,” Odair snickered, only adding to my budding irritation. How I was going to manage living with that idiot, I had no idea. 

“Hey, zip it,” Coach instructed, pointing in his direction with a look of warning. “Gale, take a break. Let’s get Davidson up.” 

Didn’t need to tell me twice. I tossed the prop football aside with a huff and stalked off the set, wishing that I could just be done. Period. I hated when Coach made us do these promos for social media and the upcoming season. Billboards around campus and ticket stubs. Whatever they could plaster our faces on, they would. It was good for our image, Coach reminded me when I tried and failed to opt out. Good for the fans to know our faces.

It wasn’t that I was shy. Definitely not. My roommate, Peeta, he was shy. My reasons for dodging the spotlight were different, more difficult to explain and for the most part largely ignored. As one of the best college wide receivers in the country, it wasn’t really my choice to make if people knew my name or not. And most did.

“I’ll smile for you, baby,” Cato Davidson promised the photographer, replacing me on set with a sauntering walk.

I threw my helmet down on the top of my bag and checked my phone. Notifications for three missed calls flashed on the home screen, all from the same, unknown number. It made my stomach flip just looking at it.

“You okay?” Peeta was standing behind me, concern dipping his thick eyebrows as he rubbed one massive bear paw of a hand over the back of his neck.

Dude was a house, towering a good five inches above me with a body built for a position on the offensive line. It was almost comedic how intimidating his size was, because he was a really nice guy. Nicest on the team, I’d wager. Definitely nicer than me. 

“Yep.” I tossed my phone back into the bag and zippered it shut, out of sight and mind. “I wish Odair would learn to shut up, though.”

“It’s not likely,” Peeta chuckled. “He’s just joking around, though.”

“Yeah, he’s a regular clown,” I soured. Peeta had to say that stuff, anyways. He played center to Finnick’s quarterback. The two were practically one on the field, and it showed in their relationship off. 

“You’re still okay with him moving in, right?” 

Like I had a choice. It was Peeta’s apartment, I just paid rent. Still didn’t know how I’d been fortunate enough to fall into such a good deal, but I knew I wasn’t in a place to start making demands and causing trouble. Peeta and Finnick were good friends, if someone was going to be forcibly evicted...it wasn’t going to be him.

“Yeah, man. We’re good,” I promised, pushing a piece of hair out from my eyes. “Let’s grab a burger or something after this. I’m starved.”

“Sure,” he agreed, easily. “Sae’s?” 

“Yep.” They had the best onion rings on campus.

An hour later, we were sitting six to a booth meant for four, stuffing food into our mouths like we hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was a Saturday, and with the fall semester beginning in just a few weeks, students had already begun flocking to campus...which meant Sae’s was packed to capacity. During the semester, wait times for booths were common but being on the Nightlock’s team had its advantages and one was that we never seemed to wait long for a table.

I took a large bite out of my burger, the juice from it dripping down my chin, just as our waitress came over and asked if there was anything else she could get us. 

“Another chicken sandwich,” Thresh ordered, not even halfway finished with the one in front of him. 

The waitress smirked, jotting the order down smoothly on her small notepad. 

I gave her a once over.

Dark skin and dark hair that was pulled back into a messy braid. Her face was mostly free from makeup, just a thin sheen of gloss on her lips and when she glanced up behind thick eyelashes, her big eyes were startling gray.

Yeah, she was hot. Completely my type if her chest had been a little bigger. When we made eye contact I flashed her a smile which she matched slyly.

“Anything for you?” 

“Another drink would be good. Big guy, need anything else?” I asked, nudging Peeta’s arm. Dude could barely make eye contact with her as he shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. He was like that with any girl--pretty or not. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so frustrating. Getting him laid was becoming a part time job for me. One I didn’t remember asking for. But, Peeta had done a lot for me over the past year. The least I could do in return was help him get a little action.

“No. Thank you.”

“Alright then. I’ll be back with the drinks.”

I watched her ass as she walked away, fully appreciating the view, and didn’t miss Peeta doing the same.

“Ask her out,” I said, nearly choking on laughter at the disgusted look Peeta sent my way with the suggestion.

“Yeah, right.”

“What? Not your type?” 

“I don’t even know her,” he said, stuffing an onion ring into his mouth. 

“You’ve got eyes, don’t you?”

He scowled and I polished off the last of my soda. 

“I don’t know if Peeta could handle her,” Thresh interjected with a chuckle. “She’s wild.”

“You know her?” 

“Seen her around. She’s in the same sorority as Dell.”

“How _is_ your wife, by the way?” Finnick inquired, earning a shove from Thresh.

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her since spring.”

“Is she back on campus yet?” he hedged, only adding to Thresh’s irritation.

_“Don’t know.”_

“I’m taking bets now,” Cato chimed in, “five bucks says they’re shacking up by the first preseason game.”

The table howled with laughter at Thresh’s expense and he shot a terse glare at all of us before taking the finishing bite of his first sandwich.

“I didn’t realize I was on a team with a bunch of gossiping girls.”

“Lighten up,” Cato said.

“He will,” Finnick promised, a sly smirk on his face. “Once he’s face deep between Delly’s--”

“Hey, shut the hell up,” Thresh interjected, causing another round of laughter which melted away as our waitress walked back up with a tray of drinks, dispersing them throughout the table.

“Thanks, hon,” Cato winked, earning a sweet smile from the chick. “Maybe sometime we can meet up and I can get _you_ a drink.”

“You know where to find me.” 

When she turned to walk away again, he eyed Peeta with triumph.

“See dude? _That’s_ how it’s done.” 

* * *

I frowned at the vibrating phone on top of my nightstand.

After lunch, I’d gone back to the apartment to catch a shower fast before leaving again. 

At the persistent device, I stopped toweling my hair off and picked it up grimly. A sense of dread filled me as it rang in my palm. Even though I knew no good would come from picking it up, there was a pang of guilt that knotted in my stomach the longer it went unanswered.

_Fuck,_ what if it was important? What if something had happened?

I shook the thoughts away before I had time to entertain them. I knew none of the above were true. This was far from my first time in this situation and the end result was always the same.

If it were an emergency, there were 911 operators available. 

I pressed down on the ignore button and finished drying off my hair before throwing the towel into the messy corner of my bedroom. 

Odair’s voice boomed from the other side of my closed door, him and Peeta busy moving all his shit into what had been the spare bedroom between Peeta and mine. 

The only good to come of this change was the rent would go down now that it was being split three ways. It had been tight the past six months since I moved in, but doable. Now, it felt like I’d finally have a little space in my budget to breathe. 

_But at what cost?_ My mind argued as his laughter echoed off the walls.

I shrugged into a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that said _Hawthorne’s Motor Repair Co._ across the front of it before going to the kitchen to grab something quick to eat. 

The only problem with needing to eat both healthy and fast regularly was that food was rarely both. The diet plan Coach had me on was one of the most restrictive on the team, full of healthy fats and lean proteins that packed a punch without increasing the scale. As a receiver, it was my job to be quick and light on my feet, slippery enough to trick defense and make it into the end zone. Being weighed down and sluggish by typical campus food wasn’t an option.

The fridge reflected as much. Peeta was a culinary major, which worked in my favor because oftentimes there was something good leftover in the kitchen. Today, I found angel hair pasta with veggies and grilled chicken. Sweet.

It was half gone by the time Peeta and Finnick re-entered the kitchen and I held up my fork in silent greeting as I chewed.

“Looks like I’m all moved in,” Finnick said with a sigh, wrapping a hand around Peeta’s broad shoulders. “Thanks again, buddy.”

“It’s no problem,” Peeta assured him, looking to me for backup.

Oh. Right.

“Yeah, the room was empty, anyways,” I grumbled, taking another bite of food. 

“My parents kind of flipped when they found out my old roommate graduated in June,” he admitted, looking embarrassed for the first time since I’d met him. “They don’t like the idea of me living alone. You know, in case something happened.”

He rolled his eyes and trailed off, but his silence spoke loud and clear.

It was no secret among the team that Finnick was in remission for cancer. Lymphoma, if we were being specific. He’d battled it twice in high school and came out the victor over it both times, then went on to become the college football protegee he was today. The miracle story sold plenty of seats in our stadium and made his face one of the most recognizable on the team. That, paired with his position as quarterback, had people tripping over themselves for his attention. 

It wasn’t jealousy that kept me from liking Odair, though. I had a plenty big following of my own and was not short on the amount of attention I received from girls at parties or around campus. He just...bugged me. It was hard to put a finger on it.

“I kept telling them they were overreacting,” he continued with a stiff chuckle.

“Well, it’d get boring living alone, anyways,” Peeta countered. “We’ll have fun. It’ll be cool to have two roommates.”

“Yeah, totally. What do you guys say to going out and getting a drink tonight?” 

“If we were twenty-one, I’d say great,” Peeta replied, slyly. 

“Right. Forgot you were infants.” Finnick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What about hanging out down in the District? They opened this cool new arcade I’ve been wanting to check out.” 

“Can’t,” I replied, finishing the rest of the leftovers before leaning over the counter to place them in the sink. I swallowed and then chugged a few sips of water. “I’ve got plans, already.”

“Oh?” Finnick hedged, too nosey for his own good. “What’s her name?”

“Cressida,” Peeta supplied, betraying me at the drop of a fucking hat. When my eyes narrowed in his direction, he shrugged his shoulders. “Met her this morning.”

“Damn,” Finnick chuckled, amused.

“I’m not seeing Cressida,” I shot back, stopping their blooming theories in their tracks. She and I both knew what that was when we hopped into bed together. One night of messy, no strings attached fun and then business as usual.

“Well if you change your mind, you know where to find us,” Finnick said. 

Yeah, not likely, but I forced out a thank you anyways.

On cue, my phone started ringing again and I’d had just about enough.

I picked it up, answered, but the reply I felt bubbling up inside of me died on my lips as the voice started talking almost immediately.

_“Oh, he can pick up a phone,”_ he said, almost amused, like he knew it was just a matter of time before I caved. Again. 

I swallowed, but said nothing. I couldn’t.

_“Been busy, I assume. I saw that you had a little photo shoot today. That’s prec--”_

I disconnected the call, struggling to breathe normally as it felt like my airways were constricting. I pushed the device deep down into my pocket, hand still fisted around it as if daring it to make a noise.

“Another prank call?” Peeta asked, oblivious to the panic I was trying to starve off. 

“Yeah,” I breathed, pushing my hair back out of my face. “Dumbass won’t quit.”

“Maybe you should change your number,” he suggested. “That’s what my sister in law had to do when the telemarketers wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“Not a bad idea.” I needed fresh air. Suddenly, the apartment felt too stuffy. “I’ll think about it.”

Only, I wouldn’t. But, Peeta didn’t know that this was the fifth new number I’d had since having a cell phone. It didn’t matter. 

Somehow, he always found a way to track me down.

+++

My brain was muddled with thoughts of phone calls and my newest roommate as I pulled into the small parking lot outside of Hoffman’s deli. 

It sat just on the outskirts of Panem, plenty far enough away from campus that I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me behind the counter here, like I would if I took a job somewhere along the District like most students at Panem did. 

Embarrassment had nothing to do with my ducking and dodging. I’d been working at Hoffman’s Kosher Deli for nearly seven months now. I wasn’t technically breaking any rules of my contract by working, because it was the off-season. Between mandatory practices and school work, Coach strongly discouraged it still, but I knew plenty of guys who picked up the stray job here or there to cushion themselves through the fall. 

I’d kept the gig at Hoffman’s to myself, knowing fully well that I planned to keep it even when the season started back up. Coach would have my balls on a plate if he found out, but it was a risk I had no choice but to take. 

Not working wasn’t an option.

The bell attached to the front entrance rang, signaling my arrival and immediately Mr. Hoffman greeted me with an eager wave of his hand towards the kitchen.

“Good, good. You’re here. There’s a lot to get done.”

I slid on the button up uniform shirt and hopped over the counter in place of using the door. Immediately when I turned, I bumped into Cressida, nearly knocking her over. 

She was one of two coworkers who shared weekend shifts with me at Hoffman's. A year older, which she jokingly bragged about anytime she left work to head for the bars.

 _“One more year for you, sunshine,”_ she’d remind me sweetly, teasing me with the swing of her hips in a short fitted skirt. _“For now, I hope you enjoy the taste of chocolate milk.”_

She was a bigger flirt than I’d even admit to being myself, which kept work interesting. Between her and Madge Undersee, our other co-worker, we managed to make the late and dull shifts at the deli at least bearable.

“Hey stranger,” Cressida smiled, like we shared some secret...which, I guess was technically true, since we’d fucked last night. Still, I didn’t like it.

I’d woken up to her in my bed this morning. Naked as she had been the night previous, her clothes still sprawled out over the floor where I’d tossed them in our haste. She’d smiled lazily at me, rubbing her eyes and leaving a black streak of old makeup down the side of her cheek.

Look, I wasn’t a monster. Yeah, I liked to... _entertain..._ but I wasn’t so much of a dick to kick a girl out of my bed in the middle of the night and leave her to her own devices. I even had chef Peeta whip them up something to eat the next morning most times. But in the chaos of the day, we hadn’t had much time to discuss how our ‘after work activities’ would affect life in the deli each weekend. 

Her hands snaked down to the bottom of my shirt, dangerously close to my belt buckle as she began to do up the buttons, fingers trailing over my chest as she worked. 

“I don’t know how, but you manage to make this stupid shirt look so sexy.” 

“Thanks,” I muttered as she finished off the last button, but before I could move past her, her hand caught hold of my arm again, giving my bicep a squeeze.

“Are we doing something later?” she asked, brazenly. 

Shit. Not good.

Cressida was a cool chick. And there was no doubt that she was good looking. But when we hooked up last night, I’d been under the impression we were on the same page. That it was a one time thing. Mutual attraction, sure, but neither of us wanted anything further than that.

I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but this new, clingy side of Cressida had me thinking she might be looking for a boyfriend. 

Better to nip this in the bud right away.

“Can’t,” I replied shortly, slipping out of her grip. “Got an early morning practice tomorrow.”

“We don’t have to be up late,” she hedged, trailing behind me. “Trust me, I know all the right tricks to make it quick.”

Yeah, I’m sure she did. Didn’t change my mind, though.

“Not tonight.” 

Before she could say anything else, I moved past her into the kitchen where Mr. Hoffman was waiting for me near one of the meat slicers.

“We have two big orders for tomorrow. Sandwich trays for a business meeting. I need you to have the orders prepared and in the fridge by close so they’re ready for pick up in the morning.”

“Got it,” I said, taking the order fill from him. He gave my shoulder an appreciative pat before moving towards the door, back to the main area of the deli.

“I have to run, kids. My son has a trombone lesson tonight. Don’t forget to lock up. See you all later.”

“See ya,” I called out, already looking over the order. 

It wasn’t long after he left that Cressida appeared back by my side, hand slipping around my waist in a way that was definitely not suitable for work. 

“Knock it off,” I said, voice a little sharp with annoyance.

“What’s your problem?”

“We’re at work.”

“So? Hoffman left.”

“That doesn’t matter. What if he’s got the place bugged or something?” 

“Oh please, like that’s stopped you from getting handsy in the past,” she chuckled and I was really getting heated. 

“Look, this job might be a joke to you but I need it. I’m not going to get fired because I didn’t get this shit done so just chill out.”

A look of hurt flashed across her face before turning stone cold, and for a second it made me feel guilty for lashing out. I saw confusion in her eyes, embarrassment but most persistent was the anger that was palpable as she stormed out from the kitchen.

I didn’t have time to be worried about it. She would calm down eventually. I could kick myself for letting her into my bed, though. We had a good thing going and Cressida had never struck me as the type of girl to get clingy after one night. 

I let out a frustrated growl, busying myself by cutting up slices of bread rapidly. I was so deep in my own thoughts, I hadn’t heard anyone approach. 

“Hello.”

I looked up and saw Madge leaning against the door frame of the kitchen casually, sleeves of the shirt beneath her uniform top rolled up to her elbows, arms folded under her chest. 

“Hey,” I muttered in return, hoisting a brisket up onto the counter to begin slicing. “Where’ve you been?”

It wasn’t like her to be late to work. Most of the time she was early even, sitting in a quiet corner of the deli with notebooks scattered across the table top despite it being the middle of summer. 

Madge struck me as the type of girl who kept a color-coordinated planner with every single detail of her life neatly penned inside. Just a hunch I had. 

Of the three of us, she’d been working for Hoffman the shortest, having just started at the end of last semester. I guess they were some sort of family friends or something, and Hoffman was always bragging about how she was a student in the pre-med program at Panem University.

I was surprised to find out we were in the same year. Panem was a big campus with hundreds of thousands of students. The chances of running into somebody twice were slim, but it was weird to think we’d been attending the same school for an entire year and yet met outside of Panem’s borders.

She wasn’t the kind of girl I’d normally think twice about. Cute, but not as obviously so as some other girls on campus...the ones who made my head turn when they passed or drew me in like electricity while out on a Saturday night.

Chances were if I passed Madge Undersee in the hallways of Panem, with her dark framed glasses and head downcast into a thick textbook, I wouldn’t notice her. 

Within the walls of Hoffman’s though, we’d become...something. Friends felt too intimate a word to use. Stupid as I felt to admit it, I still wasn’t confident that I knew exactly what it meant to be a friend even at twenty years old. But to call her an acquaintance was too formal a title.

We were friendly at work, but rarely spoke outside of it, which was fine. I liked things that way, different parts of my life tucked into neat boxes, separate from each other. _Work box, school box, football box, family box._ When they mixed, things got messy. 

“I was held up at the clinic.”

“Why are you talking with a British accent?” I couldn’t help the annoyance seeping into my voice, leftover from the interaction with Cressida. 

Madge just laughed, giving a flippant little wave of her hand.

“I was talking with my roommate on the way over. Sometimes I accidentally pick his accent up.”

I looked up at her and then immediately back down at the meat I continued to cut. My silence didn’t deter her as she walked further into the kitchen, continuing to talk.

“It’s actually pretty interesting when you think about it. Did you know that the reason humans adopt accents is because subconsciously we’re trying to form a connection with each other? There was actually a study on unintentional mirroring done, they called it the ‘chameleon effect’ because--”

“Madge,” I cut her off, lowering the knife in my hand down onto the cutting board. “I don’t care.”

I knew I was being harsh, but if I didn’t speak up she’d go on like this the entire night and I had too much work to get done. Too much on my mind between Finnick and Cressida and the fact that my phone had vibrated three times in my pocket since I got here to worry about hurting Madge Undersee's feelings.

Anyways, if I had, she was damn good at hiding it. Her expression was unfazed, undeterred as she swept her long blonde hair back into a ponytail and stood on the opposite side of the counter as me.

“What can I do?” She was back to talking in her normal voice; the one that had the barest hint of a ‘New York’ twinge to it when she said _‘Wuhat.’_

“You could chop up some tomatoes.”

“Sure.”

She disappeared into the fridge for a long moment, coming back with a vine of four tomatoes that she made quick work of slicing. 

“Where’d Cressida go?” I asked as we cut and assembled sandwiches. From where I stood, I had a clear view of the front end and the fact that no one was in it.

“She was taking her fifteen when I got in,” Madge answered neutrally, but the way her big eyes glanced up at me from behind thick rimmed glasses had me assuming she’d been filled in to at least some degree.

“She asked if she could work in front of house tonight.”

“Jesus Christ.” I set the knife back down, completely distracted. “Is she pissed?”

“She seemed...decently upset.” 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I never said you did.”

“Seemed like you two had talked, is all.” 

She shrugged absently, pushing a piece of stubborn hair back behind her ear with the inside of her wrist, careful not to use the hands preparing food.

“Every story has two sides.”

“Not this one. I refuse to take the blame for trying to keep things professional.”

“Maybe--” she stopped talking, biting the tip of her tongue. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. I hadn’t known her long, but I’d learned quickly that little in life shut Madge Undersee up.

“What?” I asked.

“Nevermind.”

“Say it.”

“I just think maybe you should’ve thought about the professional repercussions before you decided to have sex with her. There’s only three of us after all and it doesn’t do anyone any good if the two of you are fighting.”

I stared at her blankly for a moment, but it was long enough to make her uncomfortable as she started to shift under my gaze.

“Anyways, men are slow to admit when they’re wrong.”

“That’s not true, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“You’re a statistics major,” she countered. “You of everyone should understand it’s a perfect example.”

I snorted, which made her lips twitch up in a half smile. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” The question earned a light giggle from her.

“Immensely.”

“What were you doing at the clinic anyways?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself. “Don’t you know it’s the middle of summer?”

“I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the fall semester. Internships start and I want to make a good impression.”

“Oh. So you’re cheating.”

She bristled at the word, the bridge of her nose wrinkling like she’d smelt something bad.

“Not cheating. Thinking ahead.”

“Call it what you want,” I chuckled. “Are the rest of your classmates doing that?”

“Well, no but--”

“Cheater.”

She was a fun person to tease. Most of the time my silence, paired with the fact that I didn’t hand out smiles for free, was enough to make people uneasy, especially girls. If they weren’t being overly flirtatious or obliging, agreeing with every single thing I said, they were avoiding eye contact and whispering. 

Madge didn’t really fall into either of those categories. She called me out on my bullshit, which was something I wasn’t used to. It irritated the hell out of me at first, until I started dishing it back to her. Once I realized she could take it as well as she gave it out, the whole dynamic became a lot more entertaining. 

“I’m not a cheat--okay, you know what? I see what you’re doing and I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, amused when I noticed her trying and failing to hide her own smile. 

Her next words broke off though, just as she was about to respond, to the sound of things slamming loudly in the front of house. We turned our attention to Cressida who was making a show of pulling the mop out of the closet, and stalking out to the dining room to clean.

The smile evaporated from Madge’s face and she busied her hands with arranging the sandwiches in a perfect circle on the tray. 

“You think I’m an asshole,” I noted after a minute. She didn’t look back up, just kept working, but I could feel the gears in her head turning.

“Is that how you feel about yourself?”

“No, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

She placed a lid over the first tray of sandwiches and picked it up to walk over towards the fridge. 

“I think it’s not really my place to get involved.” 

* * *

By the time we clocked out for the night and were heading home, I was beyond exhausted. 

I climbed into my car, pulling my phone out from my back pocket after I sat down and idly skimmed through the notifications I’d missed while working. Immediately, my eye was drawn to the five missed calls from an unknown number.

One new voicemail was in my mailbox, and I hated the way it made me feel nauseous when I clicked on it to listen.

_“What? Are you too much of a hot shot now for your old dad?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to old friends and new! This is my very first Gale x Madge fanfiction, and I'm very excited to share it with you all. Hopefully you enjoyed this first chapter :) If you haven't read 'The Bet', that's okay! This can be read as a stand alone, but for more background information on the series, feel free to check that one out! Thanks again for reading, it is very much appreciated.


	2. August 10-12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mentions of past child abuse and trauma.

* * *

_We want the bodies on the billboards_

_not the lives underneath them._

_-_ Bastille

* * *

The first word my little sister Posy said was _Dad._

It hadn’t entirely surprised me, all those baby shows taught the basic words like that. What did surprise me, though, was when she started calling _me_ Dad.

Twelve year old me, who fed her when her loser mom was too strung out to remember she had an infant. Who woke up to rock her back to sleep when she cried so her step dad wouldn’t get pissed off. Changed her diapers, and taught her other brothers how to, too.

Yeah, I guess in that way, I was her Dad. But the thought was still disturbing. She deserved better than what I could give to her. All my siblings did. I bore the brunt of what I could, but there were still some things I couldn’t protect them from. Having shitty parents was one of those things.

It was the last weekend before the start of the fall semester. Next weekend would be the Nightlocks first home game of the season and then things would be moving at breakneck speed until Christmas vacation. I figured this might be the last opportunity I got until then to go home and visit my family.

They didn’t live too far away. Just a little over an hours drive, in Waukesha, right outside of Milwaukee. It wasn’t the town we’d grown up in, even the state. Before a few years ago, if someone had told me I’d ever get out of Chicago I wouldn’t have believed them.

Would’ve thought we’d all live and die there.

But, things change. 

Mom got busted for possession of illegal drugs three years ago, a fate that was long overdue, and with my three half siblings dads out of the picture, and mine absolutely useless, we were lucky to have a grandmother like Hazelle willing to step in and take custody to keep us out of the foster care system.

It was a better situation for the kids. They got out of the dump of a trailer my mom and dad rented and had a stable place to grow up at Hazelle’s. Neither Vick’s dad or Rory and Posy’s wanted anything to do with them, or our mother, so custody wasn’t an issue.

For me though, things were different. Until I turned eighteen I was carted back and forth between Chicago and Milwaukee at a drop of a hat. Any time dad called, cursing and yelling, I had to be shoved off to spend a few days with him...until he was so drunk or high to remember why he ever wanted me there in the first place and I’d be forced to go down to the corner store and use their phone to call Hazelle to pick me up.

But that was in the past. The day I turned eighteen I swore not to see that man again, and to the best of my ability I was holding up my end of the bargain. It was because of the school district Hazelle put us in once we got to Milwaukee that I had a spot on the Nightlock’s team. Scouts from the college were at the high school games watching and took notice of me. I’d never given much thought to college, having never thought of it being in my future, and suddenly I was signing contracts at one of the top universities in the country. 

It’d been hard on my siblings when I left for school last year. Especially Posy, who was only seven at the time and didn’t understand why one of the only consistent people in her life was choosing to leave. Again.

I swallowed hard at the thought, gripping the steering wheel in my hands tighter. I had to remind myself that she still had Vick and Rory and Hazelle to look out for her. She wasn’t alone. None of them were. Hazelle was better than anything I could’ve ever given to them, anyways. 

I was there before I knew it, pulling up to the small but well-kept house in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Waukesha. Hazelle lived at the very end of the street, where the road looped around in a circle and three houses sat equidistant apart surrounding it.

Vick was outside when I killed the engine, trying to do tricks on his skateboard. 

“Hey,” I called out, shutting the car door without bothering to put up my windows. The skies looked bright with no sign of rain and I had nothing inside my old car worth stealing.

“Hey,” he said back, putting his foot beneath the board in another attempt to flip it. It landed wheels up and he let out a long breath, pushing up some of the hair on his forehead.

“When’d you get that?” I asked, motioning to the board.

“Few weeks ago. Bought it with my allowance money.”

“Cool.”

He watched me reach into the backseat of the car and pull my duffle bag I usually brought to the gym out. His dark eyes were curious as I slung it over my shoulder.

“You’re staying?”

“For the weekend.”

He nodded thoughtfully. 

Since we last saw each other he had to have grown at least a few inches. His shoulders were beginning to broaden and his baby face had begun to slim. The dark freckles that peppered the bridge of his nose stood more prominent from time spent in the sun, and his naturally tan skin was golden from summer. The smile he gave was in the barest form, lasting only a few seconds before he turned back down towards his board. 

“Cool,” he replied, and it was probably as good of an answer as I was going to get. Of all my siblings, Vick and I were the most alike.

I left him to keep playing around on his skateboard and opened the screen door to the house before stepping inside.

It smelled like dinner from the moment I walked in. Fresh bread and roasted chicken. 

Rory sat at the dining room table, right in my view, with a few books sprawled out around him and a pencil eraser between his teeth. When he heard the door open, he glanced up and a broad smile overtook his face as he sprung to his feet.

“Gale! Gale’s here!” 

He’d barely lunged into my arms before Posy was rounding the corner, clinging to my waist and squeezing me tightly with excitement that made my chest feel warm. Damn it, I’d missed them and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it felt good to be missed, too. 

“What’s up, kids?” 

“I made cornbread!” Posy said proudly, flashing a toothless grin. “All by myself.”

“You did not,” Rory insisted, to which Posy bashfully admitted to getting some help. 

“Hi sweetie,” Hazelle greeted, pushing my long hair out from my face and bending me over to give my cheek a kiss. Her warm smile melted a little as she gave my flat stomach a pat. “You look thin. Have you been eating?” 

“Yeah,” I promised with a smile. “They feed us like kings on campus, trust me. Coach has me on a strict diet, though. Can’t afford any extra pounds.”

“Well then I hope you saved some calories for cake.”

“There’s always some left over for your cooking, Grams.”

She smiled before peeling the kids off of me so I could get in further than the front entrance of the house. Rory went back to the kitchen table and Posy followed behind him to hover.

“Gale, Rory got all A’s in math last year,” she said, holding up some of the fraction problems he was busily working on.

I gave her head a pat, taking the paper from her to look it over. 

“I remember him saying so. What, you just practice this stuff for fun now, dude?” I teased, giving his shoulder a light shove. 

“His teacher recommended he join the gifted and talented class this year,” Hazelle said from back in the kitchen.

“Yeah, they get homework over the summer,” Rory said, not seeming too upset by the whole thing.

“That’s awesome, buddy. I was neither gifted or talented, so you’re already ahead of me.” 

That made him laugh and Hazelle clucked her tongue, disapproving of my joke before she asked Rory to clean his books up and wipe the table for dinner.

“Posy, go tell Vick to come inside, please. Gale, you’ll be staying in Posy’s room. You can go put your things up there if you’d like.” 

“Grandma, what’s for dinner?” Rory inquired as I gathered my bag up. 

“Chicken, vegetables and mac and cheese.”

“And cornbread!” Posy said from the front door, which made Hazelle smile, stifling laughter.

“And cornbread.”

Rory’s nose wrinkled a little with disgust, but he stayed silent. Still, it didn’t escape Hazelle’s notice.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I hate chicken.”

I felt my stomach clench instinctively at his words. The idea of turning down food because it wasn’t a favorite, or implying to an adult that you wouldn’t eat it being so foreign it immediately put me on edge. 

“Hey,” I said, interjecting. Rory’s gaze flickered up to mine, bewildered at my disapproving look. “You eat what’s given to you.”

“No, Gale, that’s alright,” Hazelle promised, holding a hand up to silence me. She turned back to Rory with kindness in her eyes. “It’s okay to not like things, but you have to eat something. There’s leftover pork chops from last night, would you rather have that?”

He nodded happily and then went into the kitchen to help her fix everyone’s plates. 

I did what I was told and went up to Posy’s room to drop my bag inside. It had been painted since the last time I was home. Pale pink with ballerina decals stuck to the walls. Her bed sat in the corner, neatly made with a row of stuffed animals lining the purple comforter. 

It was hard to remember sometimes that Rory and Posy were so young still. That they might not share the same memories Vick and I did of times before moving in with Hazelle. The nights where stale cereal was the most gourmet dinner to be had and expired milk rotted in the fridge for weeks. Where hunger pangs forced you to choke down anything you could find and be grateful for it.

Definitely not a world where you had a choice between chicken or pork chops.

It was good, though. The less they remembered about that time the better. It was bad enough that Vick had to live with the memories. 

If they had a chance to suppress those moments in their early life in place of happier ones built with Hazelle, it was for the best. 

+++

After dinner was finished with, the kids and I settled into the living room to watch a movie while Hazelle decided to turn in early for the night. 

I left them to figure out what we’d watch while I made some popcorn and split it into four bowls, so I didn’t have to hear any fighting. Turns out it was a futile task, cause when I got back in the living room the three of them were arguing over what to see.

Vick wanted a horror movie, a choice I wouldn’t have minded if Posy and Rory had already gone to bed. The mere mention of killer clowns had Posy getting teary eyed and was immediately vetoed.

Rory picked out a romance.

“That’s a chick flick,” Vick scoffed, immediately dismissing the idea.

“It looks funny,” Rory defended, but I didn’t miss the way his cheeks brightened with color. “And Posy might like it.”

“Too much kissing,” she replied, sticking her tongue out. I’d have to log that comment away and remind her of it when she turned sixteen. “I want a superhero movie!”

_Spiderman_ was something everyone could agree on and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself a little when I looked over thirty minutes into the movie to see both Vick and Posy completely knocked out. 

I reached across my sisters sleeping form for her half-finished popcorn bowl and took a handful, shoving it all into my mouth at the same time my phone vibrated against the table next to me. 

I glanced down at it with surprise. The last name in the world I expected to see flashing across my screen was Madge Undersee. 

_Madge (9:07pm)_ Bad night for you to have off, lol.

**Me (9:10pm)** Busy?

I tried to think of a reason why it might be. It wasn’t any sort of special holiday and it wasn’t like Hoffman’s was the sort of place that got student traffic--that’s half the reason I’d picked it for work. Before I could come up with anything, Madge’s response hummed against my palm. 

_Madge (9:15pm)_ Not especially. But Cressida never showed up. 

Her responses were stranger and stranger. 

**Me (9:16pm)** She sick?

_Madge (9:19pm)_ No clue. She didn’t call in or anything. I hope she’s okay.

**Me (9:21pm)** Yeah. So you’re by yourself then?

A couple minutes passed before a new incoming media message. It took a few moments to download, and then there was a video of her spinning around a completely empty Hoffman’s Deli. She gave a little shrug at the end with the caption: _all by myself._

**Me (9:27pm)** You must be going crazy without someone to talk to.

_Madge (9:30pm)_ Har, har. For your information I have no problem talking to myself thank you very much.

I snorted, shaking my head. Able to picture her saying the words as easily as if I were standing in front of her. I took a lazy sip of my drink and leaned back into the couch, idly watching the movie I’d seen one hundred times before until I could trick myself into sleeping. 

_Madge (9:40pm)_ What did you do with your night off?

Whether she liked to admit it or not, she was lonely. I could count on one hand how many outside-of-work conversations Madge and I had had. I felt guilty though, that she’d worked the entire shift all by herself and decided to throw her a bone.

**Me (9:42pm)** Went home.

_Madge (9:42pm)_ That’s cool you’re close enough to go visit on the weekends. I mean, I guess technically I could go back to New York, too. The plane ride is only a few hours long, but who books plane tickets for one weekend? Lol.

_Madge (9:43pm)_ I probably won’t go back to New York until the semester is over. It’s just not justifiable until then. Where does your family live?

Shit, I opened pandora’s box. 

The flood of text messages were enough to fill my screen and I stared back at them blankly, trying to decipher the best response without giving away information I didn’t want to share. The only good thing about her chatter was that at least these messages seemed to focus more on her than on me.

I answered her plainly and without going into much detail by simply saying Waukesha and then because I didn’t want to come off as a total jerk--and I knew how girls felt about one worded answers--I asked her a question back.

**Me (9:49pm)** Does your family live in the city?

_Madge (9:52pm)_ No way, lol. To afford a place in the city big enough for a family we’d have to be millionaires, lol. And I’m only half joking.

**Me (9:55pm)** Aren’t you? 

It was no secret she came from money. It was written all over her in the way she presented herself. The car she drove. The major she chose. The shoes she wore. I couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

Madge apparently wasn't amused.

_Madge (9:56pm)_ No.

**Me (9:57pm)** It was a half joke. 

_Madge (10:00pm)_ Lol. But to answer your question seriously, they live outside of The City in a city called Beacon.

To satisfy curiosity, I googled the city and sure enough the first things to come up were about how good of a city Beacon was and how the median home price went for half a million dollars.

Little shit. 

**Me (10:03pm)** You lied.

_Madge (10:04pm)_ ???

_Madge (10:04pm)_ I did?

**Me (10:05pm)** Yeah, you said you weren’t rich.

_Madge (10:06pm)_ I said we weren’t *millionaires*. And technically, I'm neither. I have $187 to my name, lol. Everything else belongs to my parents.

Somehow I found it hard to believe they’d leave her hanging high and dry if she called for help. Whatever angle she was working, taking a five hour a week job at Hoffman’s, it wasn’t for the money. Most likely one of her strange social experiments or projects. She was always into something. 

**Me (10:06pm)** You’re a snot. 

It did however have my wheels turning as to why she ended up all the way out here at Wisconsin. There were plenty of medical schools along the east coast. Surely somewhere much closer to home.

I asked as much.

 _Madge (10:08pm)_ A story for another time. I’m about ready to go home and fall asleep, lol. Have a good visit with your family. See you later.

Did I seriously just get shut down by the biggest chatterbox I knew?

Fuck. 

+++

It was cold.

So _freaking cold._

I blinked a few times, disoriented as a gust of winter air whipped past me, piercing deep into my bones. My feet were heavy, weighed down by the snow that had fallen around them and each step felt like it took twice the effort it should. 

The squeaky hinges of a rusted door frame cut through the wind and I had to blink several times before I could see properly. 

No wonder the air was so cold. One look down, past the building’s ledge confirmed I was several stories up in the air, so high the ground looked forever away. 

The unsettling noise of door hinges sounded again and when I turned a full 180 degrees, I caught sight of it on the other side of the roof. The only door leading inside to warmth and safety. 

I walked as fast as I could, each step like lead weights tied to the bottoms of my feet. It felt like every time I made progress to get closer, the door only grew further away. When I was close enough to touch the handle, I lunged out for it, gripping it tightly in my hand, but the knob was stick.

I jiggled it once, twice and then pounded against the door. My arms stung as I hit the solid material, but as the wind picked up so did my desperation to get inside.

On the fifth knock, it opened easily.

And standing on the other side, was my dad.

He sized me up and down, irritated and short-tempered. As his eyes racked my body, he grew further and further away...so tall that I had to crane my head fully to look up at him.

“What the hell are you knocking for?” he asked. “Where’s the key?” 

The key? Had there been a key? I looked around, but all I saw was snow, in every direction. Nothing but nothingness as it was lost in the stark white of a blizzard.

“I...I don’t have one,” I answered.

“So why don’t you fly off and get one, _Spiderman?”_ he taunted, pushing me back away from the door. 

I stumbled, trying to regain my footing but I kept falling, desperately trying to grapple at anything to hold onto. Something to break my fall. But no spiderwebs were shooting out and when I called out for my dad’s help he only stared back at me with eerie blankness.

Watching me fall further…

And further…

_And further…_

I inhaled a large breath, shooting up in bed with a sudden jolt. I looked around, confused where I was for a moment.

Not my bed. 

Not my apartment.

It hit me suddenly that I was still at Hazelle’s house, back in Waukesha. And it was the middle of August, nowhere near the season for blizzards.

Just a dream then, I realized as I uncurled myself from the ball I’d subconsciously molded into. If you could even call it that. More like a nightmare that held frightening traces of non-fiction to it. 

It happened every time I came back home. Whether it be from the stress of repressed emotions I put off throughout the regular year, or the constant reminder of worse times through the faces of my siblings...I wasn’t sure. But something about being back in the presence of my family, even the ones I loved, sparked the bad dreams.

Not that they could be totally blamed. I had them back in Panem, too, but not nearly as often. Here, they became clockwork.

The pool of sweat that had collected along the collar of my shirt and the fact that Hazelle liked to blast the air conditioning in summer helped connect the piece of why I’d dreamt of ice. That and the fact that I had just a thin sheet covering me.

In the corner of the room, Posy sat inside of a fort she’d crafted entirely out of blankets--including the one I was currently missing. When she heard me shifting, her head poked out from beneath it and she flashed a grin.

“You’re up!”

“Not by choice,” I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “Someone jacked my blanket, any ideas?”

“Well my house needed a roof,” she explained. Little brat wasn’t even sorry.

“I see that.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“Maybe in a little bit,” I yawned. After two cups of coffee and a hot shower I might be awake enough to entertain a game of ‘make believe’ with my little sister. Seeing as my time in Waukesha was limited, I knew I had to make it a priority, or I’d feel like crap once I left.

“After dance class?”

“Yeah,” I promised. “When is that?”

“Eleven.” 

I looked at my phone, surprised to see that it was already ten in the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept in that late.

Rolling back onto the mattress, I figured I might as well take advantage of it. Come Tuesday morning it would be back to a routine of five a.m. practices and 8 a.m. lectures. I’d never been much of a morning person, but college was truly hell bent on testing that theory out.

“Galey?” Something about her tone of voice made it obvious Posy wanted something. When I cracked open an eye again, she was hovering right above the bed, waiting.

“What’s up, kid?” 

“Can you braid my hair?”

“Where’s Grandma?” I asked, voice still thick with sleep. 

“In the kitchen, but you do it better.” She whispered the confession like it was a secret and it made my lips pull up in a smile. “She pulls it too tight and it hurts when I move my head. You don’t do that.” 

I was completely powerless to her big brown eyes staring back at me, and she knew it. With a sigh of resignation, I sat up fully and created a space on the mattress in front of me for her to sit. 

She handed back a hair tie and brush happily, then turned on the television to watch cartoons as I worked.

“Guess what?” 

“Hmm?”

“I got new shoes for school. Want to see?”

“Yeah, but wait until I’m done with your hair.” 

She did as she was told, but was squirming a little in her excitement to get up and go to the closet. When I finished, she gave it a testing shake of her head before deeming it acceptable and turning quick to kiss me on the nose.

When she reappeared out from the closet, she was carrying a pair of silver glitter shoes. Each catch of the light caused them to shimmer more, and when I pretended to be blinded by them, it made Posy giggle.

“Jesus, those are sparkly. You need a caution sign on your feet.”

“Galey,” she laughed, exasperated. “They’re pretty.”

“Yeah, they’re nice. They look like Cinderella’s shoes.”

She liked that, putting them on her feet and twirling around in her ballet skirt. Suddenly she stopped, brown eyes wide as she stared at me with what could only be described as sorrow.

“We didn’t get any for you.”

I had to stifle laughter, because she looked so serious and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“It’s okay. Once your feet stop growing you don’t need new shoes as often, and mine stopped growing a while ago.”

“Oh.” The answer seemed to half appease her. “Okay.”

“Hey, you want to play a game after dance?” I asked, tossing the sheet off of me to get up and going for the day. 

Posy’s face lit up and she gifted me one of her toothless grins--a response I took to mean _yes._

“Which one?”

“We’ll let Vick decide,” she said matter-of-factly. Seconds later, Hazelle called from down the hallway that she would be late to class if she didn’t hurry. She did a quick twirl before disappearing and a few minutes later I heard the car engine start up.

Vick was downstairs, shoes on and skateboard in hand when I grabbed him to help clean up the kitchen from breakfast. He gave in with little to no fight, dropping the board before trailing behind me.

I watched him scrub the plates thoughtfully, head hung down, looking at the way the sponge created bubbles along the ceramic as he ran it in a circular motion. I took each plate from his hands to arrange in the dishwasher quietly.

“You guys do these kinds of things for Haz--grandma when I’m not around?”

He turned his head up, flipping his hair out of his eyes.

“I know you call her Hazelle. You don’t have to pretend for me, I’m not Posy or Rory.” 

No. He had too much of me in him to resemble either of our youngest siblings. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, though. 

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” he replied with enough ease for me to believe him. “We got chore lists. That’s how I earned my skateboard.”

“She’s getting old. She needs help around the house.”

“I know.”

“I know you do. Just make sure you help look after the other two, okay? That they aren’t giving her a hard time. You’re the oldest brother now, they depend on you.”

I gave him a playful shove, hoping it might earn a crack of a smile out of him, but wasn’t surprised when I got nothing. 

“You ever think about joining a team?” I asked, and when his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the jump in conversation, I elaborated. “Rory has soccer, Posy dances.”

“You and football,” he muttered.

“You should give it a shot this year and try out. You’d make a good running back. Or special teams. I always thought it’d be fun to just kick the crap out of the ball--”

“Not really my thing,” he interjected, handing me the last dish. “Besides, who’d rather spend their evenings doing sports when you can have _group therapy_ instead.”

I closed the dishwasher and leaned against the back of the sink casually.

“I heard you started going to a group. Good for you, man. That’s...good.”

“Let me guess, Grandma made it sound like it was all my idea?” At my silence, he snorted in irritation. “Yeah, figured.”

“Oh, come on. It’s gotta be better than sitting around with some old dude one on one. It’s all kids your age, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, just a bunch of teenage screw ups sitting around sharing our feelings. And if we’re good, we get cookies at the end.”

“Cookies? What kind?”

He practically snarled, and I backed down.

“There’s gotta be some cute chicks in there though, right?”

Finally, a half smile. It fell a second later and he shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but I saw it. 

“Hey.” I waited until he met my eyes. “I know it sucks man, but do it for Grams, yeah? She’s only trying to help.”

I wish there’d been someone around when I was his age who wanted to help me. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a fuck up then. If there was a chance for Vick to turn out differently, I wanted him to have it.

He nodded in silent agreement and shoved his hands down into his pockets.

“Alright, enough lecturing,” I said, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a playful shake. “Come on, let me see what you can do on that skateboard.”

We spent an hour out front dicking around on the board and I tried teaching him how to flip it over without catching his foot. By the time Hazelle pulled in with the younger kids, he was close to having it down, but not quite.

“Galey!” Posy greeted, running across the yard to me as soon as she exited the car. I picked her up with ease and she wrapped her arms around me.

“Ready to see my dance? You promised.”

“Sure. Christ, you’re heavy,” I said, setting her down, but the moment her feet touched the grass her hand was linked with mine, pulling me towards the house and refusing to let go.

I turned back to Vick, who was already focused on his skateboard again, trying to perfect the trick.

“We’ll practice again later, bud,” I called out, at the same time Rory went bounding down the driveway, telling Vick how cool he looked animatedly. 

I tried hard not to think about how much I would miss the kids when I was back in school. How out of touch I would be when it came to their lives.

Vick would surely perfect his trick and probably learn more before I saw him again. Rory would come home with more perfect scores on tests. Posy would lose more teeth and build more forts.

I would miss everything.

Jesus. Twenty years old and I felt about forty. A deadbeat dad who popped in every few months to give his kids a pat on the head before jetting off to his amazing life again.

_But it’s all for them,_ I had to remind myself to keep from doing something stupid. Like crying. And that much was true. 

Everything I did was for them. 

**+++**

Late into the night, I woke to the feeling of small hands and knees working their way across the mattress. When Posy moved over the top of my body to sandwich herself between me and the wall, and Rory slipped beneath the blankets on the other side, I leaned up a little to look at them in the darkness.

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

Posy curled into the side of my body, burrowing her head down into the pillow as Rory studied the glow and the dark stars that clung to the ceiling.

“Do you have to go tomorrow?” he finally asked. “Can’t you stay one more day?”

I swallowed, placing an arm beneath both their heads to pull them in closer to my chest.

“Come on, guys. You know I have to go back to school. It’s important, don’t you think?”

They couldn’t argue, so remained silent. 

“Anyways, you’ll be going back to school soon, too. And then you’ll be so busy you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.” 

“I always notice when you’re gone,” Posy whispered. “We all do.”

I ran a hand down the back of her head, where her hair hung loose across the surface of the pillow.

“I know. I do too. But I’ll be back for Christmas...with _presents_ if you’re good.”

I tickled their sides, which made them laugh a little before settling back in on the mattress.

“Christmas is still a long ways away.”

I swallowed hard, reminding myself not to let my younger siblings break me. Because I was supposed to be the strong presence in their life. The rock that never faltered. I held them closer, knowing it would be the last chance I’d get for some time.

“I know. Maybe I can sneak a visit in before then, but if not...we’ll talk on the phone. And remember that calendar you got last January? Are you still marking the days off?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too. Try to get some sleep now, okay? It’s late.”

A half an hour or so passed before I heard both their breathing turn rhythmic and their bodies relaxed into the lull of sleep.

But dawn was breaking on the horizon before I found myself able to drift off alongside them.

+++

Leaving was always hard, but I put on a brave face because Posy was already crying and Rory’s large doe eyes were wide with sadness. 

“I’m only an hour away,” I reminded them with a chuckle, giving Rory’s unruly hair a shake. 

“An hour and a _half,”_ Posy reminded me. “I looked it up.”

I bent down to her height, pulling her in close to me so I could whisper in her ear.

“It’s an hour when you drive like me.”

That made her giggle before her arms wrapped around me for one last hug. I gave all my siblings one, reminded them to be good for Hazelle, and then turned to walk away without another look back.

Hazelle was outside, working in the garden. She rose up onto her feet and brushed herself off when she saw me coming. 

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a twenty dollar bill. 

“I know it isn’t much,” she said quietly. “But it will get you some gas.”

“No,” I said, refusing to take the bill, and then a game of push and pull ensued until she finally wrestled it into my hand, daring me to give it back.

“It’s all I can do. But it’s the least I can do too,” she said, giving me a quick hug goodbye. “And for goodness’ sake, _eat_ something!”

I laughed, waving goodbye to her before jumping into the car.

And the house was long gone in my rear view mirror before I allowed myself a moment of weakness to give into my emotions.

+++

I didn’t bother going back to the apartment when I got to Panem. There was a shift I was scheduled for at the deli, and it made things easier on me if Peeta and Finnick thought I’d gotten home from my family visit late rather than having to explain why I was going out again after just getting back. 

Thunderstorms were threatening on the horizon, the skies dark gray with anger despite it not even being six o’clock. They came alongside the expectation that it would be another slow night at the deli...but I hadn’t expected for it to be entirely empty. 

Madge was the only one immediately seen upon entry. She sat on the back countertop, feet swinging as she read the paperback folded in her hands. She looked up at the sound of the bell, eyes meeting mine above her glasses before she pushed them up and jumped back down onto the floor.

“Welcome back,” she greeted, before her lips turned up playfully. “I was wondering if it was just going to be me again tonight.” 

“Cressida’s not here?” 

She gave a shake of her head, looking as confused as I felt. She glanced down at her watch, confirming that it was past time for our shift to have begun, and then shrugged. 

“Mr. Hoffman’s been back in his office since I arrived,” she continued. “He seemed stressed. Cress hasn’t responded to any of my text messages. I can’t help thinking the worst.”

“She probably just bailed because her band had a gig,” I said, trying to help calm Madge’s nerves. The way her mind spun she’d have Cressida hospitalized with a terminal illness in a minute. “She’s missed work before for it.”

Usually she called in sick, though. She never no-showed before.

“I know she’s not the most reliable person out there,” Madge said, and that was putting it lightly. “But I’d come to expect more from her than this. I don’t think she would just call out.” 

I stripped out of my _Nightlock’s Football_ shirt and traded it for the uniform top. If Madge looked shocked by the wardrobe change, she didn’t show it. Her eyes glanced away for a moment, but had already settled back on me by the time I was shrugging into the new fabric.

As if on cue, Mr. Hoffman appeared out from his office, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. 

“Hey kids, I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk.”

Those words were never good. 

We huddled around the back counter with no fear of being overheard in the empty establishment and Mr. Hoffman gave another heavy sigh.

“Is this about Cress?” Madge asked, earning a somber nod. 

“She quit.”

“Jesus, the way you were acting I thought she’d died,” I said, chest feeling somewhat lighter if only for a moment. No one laughed, in fact Mr. Hoffman looked at me disapprovingly before clearing his throat to continue.

“Since she won’t be returning, it’ll just be the two of you holding down the fort for the time being, until I can find a replacement. Will that be okay?”

“I managed to not burn the place down myself on Friday,” Madge teased, before looking over at me from the top of her glasses. “I think we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Should be fine.”

“Okay, thanks for being troopers with this,” Mr. Hoffman said, giving my shoulder a pat before moving past us to the front of the house. “Call if you need anything. I can be back to the shop in ten minutes if necessary.”

“Will do,” I promised, if just to ease his anxious mind. Truth was, this job was a joke. The easiest form of ‘work’ I’d ever been exposed to. Cressida was dead weight--a fun addition to our weekend crew--but we all always knew where we stood in things and Madge and I took care of the majority of the work. It wouldn’t be an issue to get things done now that it was just the two of us.

When the door shut behind Mr. Hoffman, Madge turned to me with her hands planted on her hips. 

“What?”

“You know she quit because of you, right?”

“Bullshit,” I snorted, brushing her off. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she happened to quit just a few weeks after your... _dispute._ ” 

She followed me into the kitchen, lingering in the archway of the door frame with a contemplative look. 

“Look, Cressida has always been flaky. It should come as no surprise that she up and quit without notice.”

“Hmm,” Madge hummed, and I’d come to recognize it as the sound she made when she was thinking.

I rolled my eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just think we need to set a few ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” I repeated, the words coming out disgusted even to me.

Madge pressed on with a thoughtful nod, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear.

“Yes.”

“Alright. What are these _rules?”_ I asked, using air quotes around the word. I couldn’t afford to piss off another co-worker and end up completely alone.

“I haven’t figured them all out yet,” she admitted, walking over to stand on the other side of the counter from me. “But I think rule number one should be that absolutely, under no circumstances will you and I ever sleep together.” 

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, because she seemed serious.

Yeah, somehow I think we’d survive without breaking _rule number one._

Madge held her hand out, waiting to seal it with a shake. When I reached out, her small palm squeezed mine.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a happy and healthy weekend and that you enjoyed the chapter! See you again soon :)


	3. August 27-September 1

* * *

_Shit's always broken,_ _like my emotions._

-Fitz & the Tantrums

* * *

With less than five days left before the first game of the season, Coach was losing his mind. I knew there was pressure to perform and head into our season strong, but damn. It felt more like we were training for the military instead of a football game.

There were a lot of perks that came with a Panem Nightlocks jersey. Private chefs and training facilities, personal jets to and from away games, and there were few college kids that could say they’d been interviewed for ESPN. But nothing came for free and with all its advantages came a lot of hard work behind the scenes to prep and stay in shape for game day. 

I didn’t get why Coach was freaking out about the game this weekend, anyways. We were only playing Northwestern, and last year we crushed them 35 to 14. Our larger competitors wouldn’t come until later on in the season. 

Even so, two a day practices were nothing short of normal for the last couple of summer. Contact drills in the morning, weight training in the afternoon and ice baths at night to keep our muscles from seizing up under the pressure. 

Already mine were screaming for relief by the end of morning drills. There was something to be said for getting slammed into by three hundred pound guys over and over again for an hour straight. Sweat collected on the back of my neck, trickling down my back between my skin and the gear. I didn’t mind it too much though. Some guys complained about how much of a hard-ass Coach could be, but tough drills and sore muscles meant the season was starting again and there were few things in the world I loved more than football.

I spit my mouth guard out and took the water bottle waiting for me on the sidelines before heading into the locker rooms. When my helmet came off, my hair fell loose around my shoulders, wet from sweat. Definitely going to need a shower before class. 

My schedule was all over the place, with next to no breaks one day and more than two hours in between lectures the next. Class didn’t start until nearly ten in the morning today...which made getting up at 5am all the more infuriating.

The large clock hanging on the wall signaled it was only ten past seven in the morning. I had a meeting set up with my academic advisor for eight-thirty...but if I skipped it and went back to the apartment instead, I could get another two hours of sleep and still be on time for my calculus class.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which option outweighed the other. 

+++

By the time I pulled into Hoffman’s for the night shift, I was dead on my feet. It was a balance I was going to have to learn, one more thing to juggle in my already packed schedule, but I knew that already when I first took the job. Unlike my other teammates, I couldn’t afford to not squeeze work in, even if it was minimum wage a few nights a week. Every extra dollar helped.

Madge was already there, of course, sitting at one of the tables deeply engrossed in a book. At the counter, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman were taking care of the last few patrons from the dinner rush, filling sandwich orders systematically. 

I walked over to Madge and placed my entire hand over her book before she noticed my presence, looking up at me with mild annoyance for the disturbance.

“What body part are you reading about today, Undersee?” I asked, pulling up a chair. We had a good ten minutes before we’d be able to clock in. I wondered if old man Hoffman would give me a sandwich...I was freaking starving.

“This is a leisure read,” she said with a roll of her eyes, like she isn’t constantly studying on her breaks normally. “It’s just for fun. That is until you interrupted.”

“Wow. Remind me to not to do that again.” It seemed the little nerd got testy about it. 

“It would be in your best interest,” she agreed, but I didn’t miss the hint of a smile on her turned up lips as she flipped the page and put a marker in it. 

When she set it down on the table, I noticed the cover. An old-fashioned looking book, with a woman in a long dress wrapped in the embrace of a well-tailored man. Their lips inches away from each other.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“It’s too late. You’ve ruined the best part.” She clucked her tongue with impatience. “I’ll finish later.”

“What was it?” 

She blinked, confused. A rare look for Madge Undersee. 

“What was what?”

“The best part?”

“Nothing,” she waved me off, stuffing it down into her backpack. 

My eyes narrowed at her, slyly and she expertly avoided my gaze.

“Were they about to bang? Was that the best part?”

_“Bang?”_ she repeated with an absurd sounding chuckle.

“Fuck,” I altered, and immediately her cheeks reddened and her mouth opened though no words came out.

“I--no!”

I leaned in closer, whispering so no one else could hear us.

“You’re really sitting here in the Hoffman’s deli reading porn?”

“Gale, shut up. I wasn’t!”

“You look guilty,” I snickered. She was too easy to tease, which made it all the more fun. 

She rolled her eyes, pushing her hair back with a sense of authority that went entirely against her flaming face. 

“Tell me, does it hurt when you fall on your head constantly, or does all that hair provide enough cushion?”

“I don’t fall.” 

She was the one laughing now as she scooped up her belongings to move to the back of the deli for our shift. 

A few weeks had passed since Cressida quit, leaving Madge and I to our own devices. I hadn’t heard from her since, but Madge said the two of them had talked a few times. The whole thing was weird, and felt a little dramatic to me. Yeah okay, I shouldn’t have slept with my coworker. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty. But I hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from her either.

It was pretty common knowledge I was the _one and done_ guy. The dude on the football team you hooked up with for a good time, but nothing more. At some point or another during the course of college, most people wanted no strings attached, meaningless sex and I was the one they called for that. It was for the best that way. Any relationship that involved me ended disastrously, anyways.

Madge was busy taking care of the few customers we had while I began prepping items for tomorrow's pickups and deliveries. We had a pretty good system by this point of Madge mainly working the front of house while I stuck to the back, where there was even less of a chance of being seen by anyone.

That was the largest advantage to working in the kitchen. Other than that, they were few and far between. The work was more demanding than out front, where putting together sandwiches and ringing customers out were the two biggest jobs. Back when Cressida was around, one of the girls usually helped me get things done, but without her there we were thinly stretched, and there was only so much that could be done.

I watched as the older man at the counter left Madge a generous tip and she smiled at him graciously before placing the bill inside the pocket of her apron. After he left, and she noticed me watching, she made her way to the threshold between the two parts of the deli and leaned against the wall casually.

“I was going to split it with you, you know.” 

I was immediately skeptical of the offering, knowing it was only being extended to me because she must assume I needed it more than her.

Which was true. But there was no way I was desperate enough to make her split a ten dollar tip in half. 

“Keep it,” I said instead, shrugging with an air of indifference. “You can add it to your collection, money bags.” 

“Are you making fun of me because I’m Jewish?” she asked, so brazenly that I actually startled. Of all the things to come out of her mouth, that was not what I had expected. Her lips formed a hard line and she folded her arms. “Because it’s not funny. And I’ve told you before, I’m a poor student just like everyone else.”

There was a lot to unpack there. Starting with the antisemitic accusation. 

“What does me teasing you about money have to do with being Jewish?” 

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard it,” she continued. “How I’m the _Jewish American Princess._ The spoiled, materialistic brat that’s used to being pampered by her rich parents.” 

“I...had no idea those were even stereotypes,” I admitted, somewhat embarrassed to say so. The truth was before working at Hoffman’s, I’d never had any Jewish acquaintances. I wasn’t even sure I’d met someone Jewish before in my closed off, small circle of an upbringing in the Midwest. Not that it was an excuse but my jokes about her wealth had nothing to do with her background and everything to do with getting under her skin. 

“Please,” she snickered, “You have a sarcastic comment for everything.”

“True, but I’m not prejudice.” Christ, it was the last thing I wanted to be accused of. “I didn’t know you were Jewish, and I wasn’t trying to offend you.” 

“Yeah, I know you didn’t, but now you do.” She said, defense lowering as she seemed to gauge my honesty. The ten dollar bill wrinkled in her hand as she studied it hard for a moment in silence. “You know, you lead a charmed existence yourself.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You’re a college athlete in one of the best divisions in the country.” 

“So?”

“So, your life isn’t all that bad, Gale Hawthorne.”

Madge spoke with an air of confidence, one that boasted knowledge and was difficult to argue with. Especially because I wasn’t going to sit there and prove her right. I never understood people who openly discussed their rotten childhood. Everyone had traumatized skeletons in their closets. It didn’t make me special, and I sure as hell wasn’t up for discussing the details of mine. 

There was a weird type of insecurity that I couldn’t comprehend about needing sympathy and validation for a bad past.

But, who knows. Maybe I was the weird one. Maybe it wasn’t completely normal to not be able to open up about anything, ever. To shut down at even the slightest remembrance of it…

“Are you short circuiting?”

I blinked, bringing myself back to reality, and Madge stared at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Huh?”

“You looked so deep in thought. I didn't realize ham could be so interesting.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, decidedly ignoring her giggles. 

“Hey, so I have a question,” she said, jumping up onto the counter top out front.

“Shoot.”

“What brand of conditioner do you use?”

Was she messing with me? I turned to shoot her a hard look, and the way she burst out laughing was unfortunately contagious as I felt the edges of my lips pull up.

“You’re crazy.” Absolutely batshit crazy.

“I’m being serious.” She was still laughing, the sound light and happy. Free from worry or care. “Help a girl out, winter is coming soon and my hair gets so dry. You’ve got _ringlets_ for goodness sake.”

I did not have goddamn ringlets. Posy and Rory did, though. Vick’s would resemble mine more, if it was longer. Wavy, at best.

_What am I doing arguing with myself over hair patterns?_

“Har har, my hair is long. Good joke.” Give me a break. “You’re so annoying.” 

“It’s not a joke,” she insisted, feet swinging off the edge of the counter in her dorky high tops. “The hair gods have blessed you. It should be a sin for a boy to have hair as _luscious_ as yours.”

“There’s a lot of things about me that should be a sin.”

For one blissful moment she was actually quiet. I took advantage of it, turning to busy myself in the kitchen so everything could be packaged up and ready to go by close. Exhausted as I felt, I wasn’t trying to stay any later than necessary. 

Madge’s silence was short-lived.

“So, you’re not going to tell me then?”

“I’ll tell you if you admit there’s porn in your book.”

“This,” she said, holding the paperback in her lap up for me to see. “Is a classic.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“You’re impossible,” she groaned. 

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested, changing the subject. It took her off guard as her eyebrows pinched a little before relaxing.

“A game?”

“Yeah. If I spend one more night here staring at the walls waiting for ten o’clock I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Okay,” she agreed, hesitancy in her expression still. The book in her hands closed and she set it down in her lap, giving me her full attention. “What game?”

Our options were limited. It had to be something that required no hardware. I silently ticked off games I used to play with the kids to keep them occupied when we were all younger.

_I spy._

One look at the white walls, brown tables and pink-toned meat made it obvious that would become a boring game quick.

‘Two Truths and a Lie’ could be fun, but Madge had a pretty good poker face and an even better knack for detecting bullshit. It seemed like a set up for failure on my end, which would just piss off the competitive side in me.

“Truth or dare,” I offered before the silence stretched too long between us. Madge seemed game for it, her eyes lighting up, excited by the prospect of having a little fun around here. 

“Sure,” she agreed. “You first.”

“Truth or dare?” I asked, fighting the urge to roll my eyes when she mulled over her options for a long moment, biting down on her puckered lip. 

“Jesus, Madge there’s only two options.”

“Okay, truth.”

“Weenie,” I taunted, instantly embarrassed by the lame comeback. Only it actually worked. 

“Dare,” she changed, quickly. 

Thinking it best to ease into things, I picked a fairly simple dare: to do a cartwheel through the main dining room. There was no one in the deli, and despite the fact that we’d all speculated Hoffman to have the place bugged, it had never been confirmed. Being a family friend though, I figure Madge was the most likely of us all to get out of trouble for anything we did.

She took the dare, doing far better than I imagined. When she landed right side up, she adjusted the glasses on her face with a confident little smile before practically skipping back over to the counter.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” _Duh._

The brat didn’t even miss a beat before asking, “I dare you to tell me what conditioner you use.”

“You’re trying to irritate me, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Frustratingly so.”

She chuckled, but when I didn’t answer raised her eyebrows up at me.

“Are you refusing a dare?” she challenged. “Your first one, at that?” 

“No,” I scoffed. “I’m just giving you a chance to rethink your question. Because it’s a very lame one, and the answer will disappoint you.”

_“Weenie,”_ she mouthed, taunting me. 

I narrowed my eyes.

“Mane and tail.”

Madge bit her lip but couldn’t help the little bit of laughter that escaped.

“What?” I insisted, hating the way the question made me sound insecure. Like I cared what she thought.

“You’re right,” she nodded. “I am a little disappointed.”

* * *

If someone had asked me three years ago where I thought I’d be now, my answer surely wouldn’t have been _college._

Dead, maybe. Working a minimum wage job at my uncle’s repair shop was another possibility. I’d like to think that I might’ve taken a few classes at a community college and tried to make something of myself, but I couldn't be so sure.

Walking the campus of Panem, I still felt like a fraud most of the time. Like everyone could see right through me, for the literal trailer trash that I was. That the only reason I had a spot in their lectures was because I knew how to catch a football. 

The rules of my scholarship stated that technically the highest grade I needed in order to keep it was a C, but I hated to give anyone an excuse to look at me like I was an idiot, even if I was. I worked hard to try and maintain a letter grade of at least a B in each of my classes. 

When I was first recruited to attend Panem, my major was ‘undecided’, having never really given it much thought before. Coach helped me to choose Statistics as a career path. He noticed that I was real good with numbers and analyzing situations. Things I hadn’t even noticed in myself. It seemed like too big of a risk at first...too many tests, too much studying, both things I wasn’t great at, but with his push I set out to accomplish it and had been trying to prove to both him and myself that I could be worth it since. 

Math came easier to me than most subjects, mainly because it was so straight forward. The answer was right, or it was wrong. There might be several avenues to arrive there, but that much was always the same. In a world with so much gray, it was comforting to rely on something black and white. 

Calculus was the exception to this rule, though. I didn’t know what it was about it, but I found it to be unnecessarily difficult. By the time class was finished, my head was picking up a steady throb from concentrating so hard.

“We studying this week?” I asked Thom, the guy who sat next to me, as we packed up our things to leave the lecture hall. He was one of the few I’d become acquainted with in the past semester, largely due to the fact that we both tended to pick seats towards the back of class. Somewhere along the way, we’d come to a silent agreement to help one another out. Him, along with Lavinia and Pollux made up the study group I tried to keep up with once or twice a week.

With the first test of the semester next week, there was no way I could ditch the extra practice.

“Sure,” he agreed easily, turning up to confirm with the other two members of our group. “Tomorrow night works for me.”

“I’m in,” Lavinia seconded, and next to her Pollux nodded. 

As we walked out of the room, Lavinia jogged to catch up with me.

“You ready for the big game this weekend?” she asked, and from now until December I would hear the question five hundred times a week. More often than not though, it would come from complete strangers who approached me like lifelong friends just to give me a handshake and pat on the back. 

Lavinia was cool, though. You’d never be able to tell by looking at her that she played goalie for the women’s hockey team at Panem. Dressed in a preppy polo...matching headband and all...she embodied the _sorority type._ Despite that though, she was one of the few who actually went to football games to watch them, not just get drunk and party before and after. I could count on her to be back in class Monday giving me the play by play from Saturday.

“As ready as I can be,” I said, smirking a little when she laughed. 

“I was able to get my hands on season passes,” she boasted, pulling her books closer to her chest as we walked. She had a slight bounce to her step that was cute. “The girls and I woke up at _literally_ three in the morning to get them. It’s insane how competitive they are.”

“Yeah. Stands fill up pretty fast.”

“It must be an insane amount of pressure,” she mused. “Playing in front of so many people.”

It was, for sure. I still remembered the first time I fumbled the ball during a game. The mistake resulted in the other team gaining forty yards. The resounding _boo’s_ echoing through the stadium at me were loud enough to make me want to run back into the locker room and stay there. 

But more often than came a feeling of power. There was something exhilarating about walking into a crowd of thousands, all cheering for you. All on your side, wanting to see you succeed. It was like a drug.

“It’s fun,” was all I said in response. 

“Looks like it. Especially during half-time.”

There was a tradition at Panem University, during half time at home games they liked to pump the crowd up by playing loud, upbeat dance music. The stands would literally shake with everybody dancing and most of the team got into it too, showing off on the field and playing along with the crowd. 

“Maybe I’ll catch you busting a move.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, laughing a little. 

“I’ll be looking for you this weekend, then.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned in the opposite direction as me, heading for the other side of campus.

+++

When I heard some of the guys were meeting up in the Union to grab something to eat before our next practice, I didn’t think twice before joining. I was starving and knew it would be my last opportunity to eat for several more hours. 

The food there wasn’t near as good as the quality we received from the student athletes lounges...where omelets and burgers could be made-to-order and everything was fresh, but it was closer and I wasn’t nearly as picky about food as some of my teammates were. Anything on campus was better than the crap I’d forced down in the past. 

“That chicken sandwich is inedible, bro,” Cato mentioned when he saw me snatch one of the pre-made wrappers. I eyed him with irritation, watching the way his upper lip curled in disgust as I took another. 

He stuck with a coffee, evidently preferring to go hungry over eating anything the cafe had to offer. I didn’t understand why he even came if he was going to be like that. Cato Davidson was an annoying little bitch that even Peeta had a hard time putting up with. For whatever reason though, he considered us to be his _friends._ So, there he was. 

Five minutes hadn’t passed before a group of giggling girls walked by, waving as they greeted us with confidence by name. The douche bags surrounding me ate it up, eyeing the exposed parts of their bodies, playing into the flirtation. It happened often. Our faces--Finnick and Cato’s especially, but even mine--were becoming increasingly popular. Plastered all over school, be it on billboards or signage that stretched the length of campus. Football was religion here, that much was obvious. And everyone attended the service. 

“Gale!”

Jesus, I couldn’t get one bite out of my sandwich without someone bugging me.

I fought to hold in my irritation, channeling the charm and charisma that I was lacking most of the time. The voice was familiar, and I’d barely had time to register why before my stomach pitted with dread and I looked over my shoulder to see Madge approaching. 

She looked the same as she always did. Long blonde hair pinned back, thick framed glasses covering the bulk of her face. Converse sneakers and jean shorts with a t-shirt tucked into them. She looped her hands around the backpack on her shoulders and gave a bright smile as she approached the table.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t cool. Not at all.

The neat little boxes that were parts of my life I’d kept organized for so long were about to crash. _And in their wake…_

The truth of how Madge and I knew each other was too dangerous to share, especially with Cato and Finnick present. The very last thing I needed was for one of them to go blabbing to Coach about my job at Hoffman’s and be put on probation before the season had even begun.

Goodbye scholarship.

Goodbye school.

Yeah, there was no way in hell that could happen.

But Madge had the gift of the fucking gab and one quick survey of my teammates showed them all to be curious about her sudden appearance. When she set her bag down on the edge of the table, waving at me knowingly, Peeta looked to me with expectancy. Like I might introduce her.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve run into you here,” she laughed lightly, oblivious to every sort of indirect signal I was trying desperately to send.

“It’s ah, a big campus,” I offered lamely, barely meeting her gaze.

“That’s true. I checked my watch earlier, can you believe I’ve already walked _fifteen thousand steps?_ I mean, I guess it’s not that crazy. Two of my classes are on complete opposite ends of each other but it still seemed high. I guess I won’t need to go on a diet anytime soon.”

I was only half listening to her, half trying to decipher what my teammates were thinking.

“You know, greek yogurt is a better source of protein than chicken. Especially with all that breading on it.”

She needed to go. I knew it was only a matter of moments before something slipped out of her mouth about Hoffman’s. Especially at the speed in which she was talking. Embarrassment didn’t come easily to me, but I felt my face flame with heat that crept down my neck and up to my ears.

And I panicked. 

“What can I do for you, babe?” The words came out of my mouth before I could barely think the consequences through. 

Madge’s eyebrows pinched the way they did when she was confused and I caught her fidgeting with the edge of her glasses.

“...Babe?” she repeated, quizzically, managing a small laugh.

“You want an autograph? A photo? What?” 

I watched as her mouth opened once, and then closed only to repeat the action. Crystal blue eyes wide with confusion and...betrayal? Disgust? I didn’t look long enough to decipher the meaning in her gaze before turning back down to my tray.

“I’m trying to eat though, so we have to make it quick.” I shimmied my napkin out from beneath the tray and shook it off before looking around the table. “Anyone have a pen?”

“I do,” Cato answered, like the dumb ass he was, but before he could give it over, Madge was backing away with a hand held up in rejection.

“No, I think I’m good...um. Thanks.” I could feel her staring at me for one more paused moment, waiting for me to somehow reverse what I’d just done, before finally giving up and taking another step away.

“Right,” she mumbled, shifting on her feet. “Okay. I’ll talk to you...some other time then.”

“See you around,” I answered without sparing a glance and I knew she’d walked away when the guys at the table refocused their gazes to me and started talking. 

“Dude.” Finnick was the first to speak, laughing despite amusement lacking in his tone. “What the hell was that?” 

“What?”

“She clearly knew you. Why were you such a douche?” 

“Yeah, she was cute,” Cato said, shaking his head like I’d disappointed him. Most everyone at the table agreed and I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much that they did. I kept my feelings to myself though, only offering them a shrug of indifference.

“We must’ve met at a party or something. I don’t remember.”

“She looked upset,” Peeta commented, eyes still following her across the cafe.

“Wouldn’t be the first girl upset with me.”

“You sure you didn’t sleep with her?” Cato asked. “She had bedroom eyes.”

“No, she didn’t,” I snapped. “Drop it. We didn’t do anything together. We aren’t anything.”

“If you insist.”

I fought the urge to text Madge then and there and explain myself. The campus at Panem was so big that running into her, especially with the guys from the team, hadn’t even ever crossed my mind. The chicken sandwich wasn’t sitting well with me anymore as my mind tried to think of a way the whole interaction could be smoothed over.

Madge was a nice girl, but she was also smart.

She knew I was a dick.

She would understand why I did what I did when we caught up next and were able to talk.

Until then, I had no choice but to put it out of mind.

* * *

On game day, a different side of me came out.

Gone were all tendencies to be sarcastic or brutish. On the field, it was all charisma, baby. The kind that got fans cheering and professional recruiters taking notice. After nearly a nine year break, I was itching to be back in that mindset. 

Finnick diverged, too. His normal incessant jokes and obnoxious demeanor evaporated into one of authority and seriousness that even I could respect as a teammate. He rounded everybody up for a pre-game huddle with Coach while just outside the walls the stands roared with life, excited for the show to begin.

“Alright boys, time to show up,” Coach said, clapping his hands together with vigor. “I need everyone to be giving one hundred and ten percent today--”

“Even if it _is_ a shoe in,” Cato muttered, earning a few chuckles of agreement. 

“Don’t get cocky,” Coach reminded us all, even if his finger was pointed towards Cato. “That kind of attitude will embarrass you. We might’ve won last time, but that can be a blessing in disguise for the other team. They’re hungry for a win and expect for us to be riding on past success. Don’t be a fool and fall for it.”

“Yes sir.”

“Let’s get out there! Play hard, fight fair and ring in the new season with a goddamn victory!” 

More cheers of agreement followed, booming through the locker room. I gave a few cursory claps, more than ready to get out and play.

When the huddle broke and we started to make our way towards the front of the stadium, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder to stop me.

“Hawthorne. Hold up a minute.”

I scratched the back of my neck, where my hair rested against skin because of the way the helmet pressed on it. 

“You missed a meeting with your advisor.” 

Shit, how did he know _everything?_

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to play it off, but Coach wasn’t having it. His hand refused to let go of my shoulder.

“You know?”

“I’ll reschedule.”

“I wanna see that in writing. You need to keep up with your academic commitments.”

“I will. Sorry Coach.”

He didn’t keep me back any longer, but gave me a hard pat on the back as I jogged to catch up with the rest of the team.

The energy heading through the dome into the arena was contagious and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein inside of me as the adrenaline coursed. 

After the national anthem and a coin toss which determined we’d start with the ball, the game was underway and we were headed to the middle of the field, right between the massive Nightlock berry that decorated it.

I gave Peeta’s massive shoulders a quick squeeze as he took center position and I trekked out to the outskirts of the offensive line, ready to run a play that had been practiced several times over in the past weeks.

Finnick’s voice reverberated over the crowd, and then my feet were moving, carrying me as quickly as possible down the length of the field. 

+++

It was the wide receiver's job to be quick, slippery, and above all else to catch the ball. The more ground I could cover before being taken down by defense, the closer we’d be to a touchdown. In the past year, Finnick and I had practically gotten things down to a science. 

It had a eighty-nine percent success rate, meaning the other eleven percent of the time the play was incomplete due to Finn getting sacked or me tackled, or the pass being intercepted. Not as good of odds as Coach--or either of us for that matter--would’ve liked, but they were in our favor nonetheless. 

For the first half of the game, that science was proving true. 

But within the first five minutes of the third quarter, it failed.

My breath was coming out in pants as I ran with speed reserved for game day, spinning and faking out the defense in order to keep from being tackled. It was pretty funny actually, watching them fall to the ground empty handed once I’d maneuvered out from their embrace. 

I caught the ball, tucked it up against the side of my rib cage and continued towards the end of the field. In my haste to avoid one player, I had completely missed another and felt my teeth jolt as I was slammed to the ground with force.

Pain shot up the length of my arm and I physically cried out as more people landed on top of me, causing the affliction to intensify.

I tried to move, but the pang in my arm was throbbing, limiting my mobility.

“Get the fuck off of me.”

The pressure of their bodies subsided, but I wasn’t able to move my shoulder at all without a new wave of pain radiating through it. 

It was dislocated. I knew without even having to look.

“You good, dude?” Finnick asked, coming over to help me off the ground. I winced standing up, grinding my teeth together to keep how badly it hurt under raps. Last thing I needed was Odair seeing me like a wounded animal.

“Fine. I just have to pop my shoulder back in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Coach said, interrupting my plans before I could follow through. “You need to have medical take a look at it, first.”

“I’ll be out of the game,” I said, already shaking my head. “It’s fine.”

Cheers erupted through the stands as I hobbled off the field surrounded by referees, Coach and Finnick. _Pathetic._

“It’s not up for discussion. I don’t need you causing more damage and being out permanently. You’re going over to the clinic to have it looked at.” 

A million curse words cycled through my mind, but I knew better than to press my luck arguing with Coach. It was better not to piss him off. 

“We need a time out,” Coach called, bringing the team over to discuss their next moves...while I was escorted away via stretcher, which just felt ridiculous.

So much for ringing in the new season.

The medical center was quiet, especially for a Saturday night. 

The hospital was conveniently located on campus, but was open to the entire community. The largest one for two counties and more often than not the beds were filled with residents of the city of Panem, not students. 

I felt ridiculous, riding through the sliding glass doors of the Emergency Room seated in a wheelchair. Like a shoulder injury somehow prevented me from being able to walk. There were dudes on the field who would’ve milked the injury for sure, looking to wheedle their way out of at least one practice and maybe earn a sympathy blowjob or two from one of the jock chasers, but I’d rather be out on the field. Last thing I needed was for the sports broadcasts to be running wild with news of _Panem’s best wide-receiver_ injured before the season had barely begun. Freaking humiliating. 

“Is it that time of year already?” The nurse behind the desk was middle aged hair braided back behind her head. Her eyes were tired, like she was on the last leg of a long shift, and her loose-fitted scrubs were plain burgundy, void of any design.

“Yep,” the paramedic who insisted I stay in the wheelchair until we made it to the ER answered in a deep sigh, like football season was some sort of morbid joke among the medical facility.

The nurse looked down at me for the first time, regarding me with a hard stare. 

“What happened?”

“Fucked up my shoulder.”

“Language,” she said absently, not in the mood to take shit from a twenty year old in a grass stained jersey. 

“Sorry.”

Her expression softened a little as she tried to visually assess the damage beneath my gear.

“Can you move it at all?” 

I tried, but winced at the sharp shot of pain that went through it. 

“Okay, don’t do that,” she said, signaling with an outstretched hand that it was enough. She clipped a piece of paper to a clipboard and handed it to me with a pen. “Can you fill this out?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” she said, taking the handles of the wheelchair to situate me somewhere less in the way of everything. “Go ahead and work on it then and I'll try to get you into a room shortly.”

“Do I have to keep the chair?”

Her lips pulled up a little at the edges, amused. “Afraid so.”

I suppressed the groan, deciding to take my fate gracefully and thanked her under my breath before getting to work on the form. 

At least, as much of it as I could.

Family history? I truly had no idea.

Primary Physician? Besides the doc that Coach made us see at the start of season, I hadn’t been to the doctors office in years…

I changed gears, working on questions with obvious answers, like my name and address, social security number and health insurance plan.

By the time I finished writing it all the nurse who checked me in was taking me to a room.

“I’m heading off my shift now, but another nurse will be in to get a little more information before a doctor sees you.” 

“Okay, thanks.”

“Be careful next time,” she scolded lightly, giving me a kind smile before pulling the curtain to my ‘room’ closed.

I sighed, setting the clipboard down on the medical table beside me. The doc would have to get over the fact that there were holes in it. My shoulder was throbbing despite my protests, but it was nothing a little ice and a night's sleep wouldn’t fix once it was back in place. I rubbed it experimentally, but could barely feel it beneath the protective padding.

A knock sounded on the wall and a moment later the curtain flew back and I was greeted by a young nurse and no other than Madge Undersee.

“Hello, my name is Paylor and this is Madge, she’s one of the medical students. Do you mind if she shadows today?”

“Actually, we know each other,” Madge mumbled quietly, folding her arms over each other before adding, “A little.”

“Oh.” Paylor looked between Madge and I, trying to decipher the vibe in the room. The tension was palpable, making the air feel thick. “If you’re uncomfortable--”

“It’s fine with me. Do what you have to do,” I permitted, playing it off like I wasn’t feeling as awkward as Madge apparently was.

Having only ever seen her in street clothes or her Hoffman’s shirt, it was strange sharing a space with our alter egos. Her in dark blue scrubs with an official looking badge pinned at her hip. Me in all my football gear still.

I was cursing Northwestern out silently the longer this went on. 

“Okay.” Paylor didn’t seem convinced as she eyed us once more before turning her professionalism back on. “Gale, honey, it’s your arm that’s bothering you?”

“It’s dislocated.”

“We’re just going to have to check and make sure there’s nothing else going on, too.”

“So what happened?” Madge asked, standing off to the side.

“Got tackled and landed wrong.”

Madge didn’t say anything, but I hadn’t missed the slight wince she gave before Paylor took a seat next to me to measure my blood pressure. 

While she worked silently, I caught eyes with Madge a couple of times before we both looked away awkwardly.

“Blood pressure is a little high,” she said, placing the stethoscope back around her neck. “One thirty over ninety. Is that normal for you?”

Beats me. I gave an absent shrug and couldn’t help the sharp inhale I gave as my shoulder throbbed.

“It’s probably due to the pain. I’m going to get you some medication before proceeding, okay? Madge, can you help him get the jersey off? The doctor will need that all removed before she comes in to look at it.”

Madge nodded dutifully, completely back in a professional state of mind as Paylor exited the room and left us to our own devices. 

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that swung as she walked closer to me, and beyond her glasses, bright blue eyes found mine.

“You know, this is my dream come true,” she admitted, reaching out for the hem of my jersey. The stupid, hormone driven part of me was interested immediately in her words.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean being one of your crazed mega-fans and all I feel like I just won the lottery. I bet you didn’t know that I’m wearing my _I love Gale Hawthorne_ t-shirt underneath my scrubs right now.”

Okay, so she wasn’t over what happened the other day.

“Careful, I might collect your urine sample and bring it home to conduct some strange ritual in my closet.” 

“See, that’s...weirdly specific,” I countered, hoping to earn at least a chuckle from her. Madge held her ground though, not cracking so much as a smile as she gave my jersey a tug. “Shit, careful.”

I lifted my good arm up in the air and helped her to maneuver it out of the mesh material. Once it was out, it was fairly easy for her to remove it the rest of the way. She folded it neatly, placing it down beside me before looking at all the padding beneath it with perplexity. 

“Do you mind…” she trailed off, fingers brushing the buckle that sat in the center of my breastbone. Her traitorous pale skin gave way to her embarrassment over the situation as I nodded silently and she started to undo the protective gear from my chest.

I couldn’t help myself but admire her _assets_ while she worked. The scrubs were kind of a sexy look. Despite the way they hung loose on her body, they accented her most notable curves in a way that left curiosity piqued.

There was no sense in denying Madge was a pretty girl. Not my usual type, but there was something intriguing about that. Getting more so with each interaction.

Only, she looked like she’d rather see me skinned alive right now over anything else. 

“You know, I have a theory about why you blew me off the other day,” she said quietly as the padding came undone and she gingerly began to strip it back from my chest.

“Oh?” I asked.

“Not that I was sitting around thinking about it,” she said, quickly, holding a finger up as if to emphasize the point. “But, it was weird. And my lecture was boring so...my mind drifted.” 

“Are you going to share this theory?” 

“I thought of giving you the benefit of the doubt.” She took the gear and put it off to the side, out of the doctors way. She donned a pair of gloves and pulled out a package of sterile scissors and a long ace bandage. 

“Are you sure you should be holding scissors when you’re so…”

“So what, Gale? Finish that sentence.”

“...Emotional?”

She snipped the fabric hard, placing the scissors back down before rolling up the ace bandage, never leaving my gaze. 

“This is ridiculous,” I said, feeling weirdly exposed sitting there bare chested in front of her in nothing but a pair of spandex pants. “I could’ve popped my shoulder back in myself by now and finished the game.” 

“Have you dislocated it before?”

“Plenty.”

“Playing football?” she guessed, distracted by the strange way it jutted out unnaturally from my body.

Playing football wasn’t the only way I’d done it. Not even the most common way. But it had happened once or twice before on the field so I was able to nod my head with ease in answer to her question. 

Definitely wasn’t going down that rabbit hole.

I popped it back in, the action taking Madge by surprise. She gasped at the sound, looking between me and my shoulder and then smacked my bare chest hard. 

“Idiot! You’re supposed to wait for the doctor.”

“Don’t need one. Can I go now?”

“They’re going to think _I_ did it and I’m not allowed to treat patients,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder at the curtain that remained closed. 

“Chill, Undersee. I’ll tell them you didn’t lay a hand on me.” At my words, she unconsciously dropped her gaze to my bare chest, and I felt my muscles clench under her scrutiny. 

She swallowed and shook her head, pushing her frames up higher as she stuck her pert little nose up in the air. 

“Wait here. I need to go consult the doctor.”

“Consult away.”

Ten minutes later, she returned with a doctor in tow, who checked out my arm and prescribed Advil and ice and suggested I continue to use the sling for another day or two. 

It was hard to believe you needed an eight year degree for this.

Madge shoved some papers onto my lap and a pen before instructing me to sign the bottom of the page.

“What are these?” 

"Discharge papers. I need your _autograph_ before we can let you go," she explained with so much sarcasm I actually frowned.

I signed the papers with a quick scribble and then Madge snatched them back, wishing me a fast recovery before turning on the balls of her feet and fleeing for the exit, leaving me behind with Nurse Paylor before I could say anything else. 

Still never figured out what her theory was, not that I was interested in her reverse-psychology bull anyways.

I knew why I did what I did. I didn’t need her help explaining it.

But, I did need to figure out a way to make it up to her. 

And I’d never been any good at things like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Grimace face emoji::
> 
> I just want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you who has read, left kudos and/or left a comment on my story. Your support means so much to me and has been tremendously inspiring. I wish everyone a happy and safe end to the weekend. See you next time!


	4. September 6-9

* * *

_I know I fucked up, I'm just a loser.  
_

_Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter._

-Benee

* * *

I’d never seen such a fuss made over a dislocated shoulder before in my life.

Coach made me an appointment with a massage therapist to _relax the muscles,_ so while everyone else was practicing new plays and passes...I was having spa day. Of course I’d be lying if I didn’t say it felt nice, but there were so many other valuable ways to be spending my time that didn’t involve lying naked on a massage table. 

By the time I made it back to the apartment I was irritable and hungry, wanting nothing more than to grab something quick to eat and go play video games. 

Peeta greeted me from the kitchen island, where he sat rifling through papers he had scattered across its surface. 

“Hey man,” he muttered, quite preoccupied with whatever he was studying. “How was physical therapy?”

“Ridiculous. My skin smells like cucumbers.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he joked, and I snorted with a shake of my head.

“How was practice?”

“You didn’t miss much. Just some drills.”

“It’s the beginning of the season. Pretty shitty timing to be out of commission,” I grumbled and Peeta’s eyes lowered to the sling I’d been forced to wear for the past several days. Doctor had told me I needed to be wearing it everywhere except the shower and bed for the next week when she dismissed me from the ER, and Coach was just as serious about it. The thing was a literal pain in the neck. I couldn’t wait to be rid of it. 

“Is your arm still bugging you?” 

“It feels fine.” Just a little sore, but nothing any athlete couldn’t work through. I opened the fridge with my good arm and went to reach for the energy drink I’d stuck in there last night, but it was moved.

No, not moved. Gone. 

“Who swiped my drink?” 

My voice bounced off the high walls of the apartment, echoing through the quiet space. I knew who did it, damn it. The same person who drank the milk straight from the carton, ate my leftovers and didn’t refill the ice trays.

Peeta shot me a disapproving glance. 

“Don’t overreact,” he cautioned.

Overreact my ass. A month's worth of irritation was bubbling over, unwilling to lay dormant any longer. 

Down the hallway, the toilet flushed, followed by the sound of the door opening as Finnick made his way into the kitchen. His typical cocky smirk was replaced with a deep frown, face ghostly pale as he eyed the fridge and then me, confused. 

“Shit, that was yours?” 

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, noting the sheen sheet of sweat on his forehead. 

“I’m just tired.”

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Peeta added. 

“Already did,” Finnick muttered, rubbing a hand over his thick hair tiredly. “I drank your juice this morning. Thought it was up for grabs. I’ll get you another tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.” I shut the fridge tight, turning to the pantry instead for something to eat. The silver foil of Pop-Tarts greeted me instantly and when I went to grab the box, it fell to the ground, scattering. 

Damn fucking sling. I ripped it off, tossing it to the ground.

“Dude,” Finnick said, as I stalked past him and Peeta both.

Regret came immediately. I felt stupid for having a temper tantrum like a child, but it was too late to take back my actions now. It was hard to even tell what I was mad about anymore. Definitely not about the drink. I’d gotten it for a buck twenty. 

I wasn’t even sure if it was about Odair, even if he did act like he owned the place. Like he was free from consequence. My phone buzzed inside of my pocket with another missed call and I felt my heart rate increase another several beats. He’d been calling more often again lately, at all hours of the day and night. Never a good sign. Usually meant he was drunk or broke. Or both.

The war inside of myself weighed the pros and cons of answering the phone. For so many years of my life, it had been an instinct. When Dad called, you didn’t keep him waiting. 

_“Gale!”_ I’d remember him yelling the second he walked through the door. And it didn’t matter what I was doing. Sleeping, reading, playing or pissing, I better get down there as fast as possible.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t live with him anymore. That I was twenty years old and three inches taller than him with ropes of muscle from a balanced diet and proper nutrition. I wasn’t sure if that feeling of needing to answer when he called was ever going to go away.

I was able to temporarily push it off, ignoring the notification for missed calls and firing up the PlayStation instead. I grabbed a remote, falling down onto the couch as I waited for the most violent game in the queue to load. 

I hadn’t even pressed _start_ before the blonde mop of Peeta’s head appeared at the stairs. He leaned casually against the wall which overlooked the lower half of the apartment, waiting in silence.

It didn't take long for me to fill it.

“He needs to realize there’s certain ways we did things before he got here. He can’t just show up and…” And what? I trailed off with a frustrated growl, punching the button on my remote. I didn’t have a leg to stand on and it was all the more frustrating. This place belonged to Peeta. He was the one calling the shots, not me. I had no right to interject or to even care. My stock in the apartment was level with Finnick’s.

That only frustrated me more.

Peeta waited a long moment before coming to sit beside me on the couch, so our conversation couldn’t be overheard.

“He’s sick, Gale.”

“I know,” I sighed, pushing my hair back. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t bother. It’s stupid.”

“No, it's not.” Peeta looked at me like he understood my emotions when I wasn’t even sure that I did. I felt like I should be lying on the couch, pouring out my feelings while he drew funny pictures and listened intently. 

“If things aren’t working out…”

I waited for him to finish the sentence. To tell me what I already knew. _If things aren’t working out, I could find somewhere else to live. I wouldn’t be welcomed anymore if I didn’t stop picking fights over dumb shit like drinks and ice trays._

“I could talk to Finnick about a different arrangement, maybe. Help him find somebody else on the team to room with.”

I blinked, taken aback with the unexpectedness of his words.

“What?”

“You were here first,” he said, factually. “And you have to be comfortable with the arrangement, too. I didn’t really talk to you before he moved in, and that was my bad.”

“It’s your place.” I couldn’t look at him, not willing to let him know how much his words meant to me. “You call the shots.”

“It’s all of our place,” he corrected.

Ours. Including Finnick.

“It’s fine, man. I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I just have a lot on my plate.” 

“I know. Beginning of the season always stresses me out, too.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you...ever talk to that girl?” 

I turned towards him, momentarily confused.

“Cressida?” 

She was the last girl I’d brought home with me to the apartment, but it was nearly two months ago. Peeta had made her breakfast though. Probably helped sustain the memory.

“No,” he countered. “The one who came up to our table last week and you pretended not to know.”

Oh. Madge. 

I couldn’t be reminded of her name without feeling like a colossal asswipe about the way things had gone down that day. 

“What about her?”

“Just seems like you’ve been...more irritable than normal since that all happened.” 

“Haven’t gotten to yet,” I said in answer to his original question. There was no point in lying about knowing her to someone like Peeta. He saw straight through it, that much was obvious. Even if he refrained from directly calling me out on it. 

Before he could respond further, Finnick appeared at the top of the stairs and knocked against the wall lightly.

“Is it safe to enter?”

I openly rolled my eyes but was unable to help the smirk as he came and fell down into the lounge chair opposite of Peeta and I, feet dangling off the side of the table.

“Sorry, dude. I really didn’t know it was yours. I guess even a few years away from home I’m still used to living with three sisters. You have to take what you can get when you can get it around my house.”

I snorted and Finnick’s smile faded a little as he reached a hand out to me.

“We good?”

I regarded it before connecting mine with his and giving it a little shake. 

“Yeah. We’re cool.”

“This is the perfect time to share an idea I had with you guys,” Peeta said, looking almost embarrassed as we turned to face him. “I think it’d be good if we started having dinner together once a week. Just the three of us.”

“Peeta wants to take us on a date," Finnick joked, smacking my arm. 

“As long as your cooking, big boy, I don’t care what we do.”

We shared a laugh at his expense, which he good-naturedly joined in before scrubbing the back of his head where his hairline met the neck.

“No, but for real I think it’s cool,” Finnick said, voice more serious. “Like a family. Might help us bond more.”

“You in?” Peeta asked, turning his attention to me.

And what choice did I have if both him and Finnick were willing to put the extra effort into getting along better, but I wasn’t? What did that say about me?

I nodded, turning back to the television.

“Yeah, count me in.”

Finnick grunted, lifting himself back onto his feet.

“You want to play a match?” I asked, motioning to the paused screen. Since everyone was playing _nicey-nice_ I figured I better make a similar gesture.

“Maybe later.” He was still a pale shade of sea green. “Think I have to lie down for a bit.”

I nodded, and he passed by the television before taking the stairs back down to the main level quickly. Peeta stood up too, with the quiet comment of making something for dinner. 

“Maybe...you should try talking to that girl,” he offered, scratching the back of his neck. “It might make you feel better.”

“I feel fine,” I lied, to which Peeta shrugged and made his way down the stairs. But his parting words were enough to make another pang of guilt wash over me. 

* * *

Madge Undersee was becoming a problem. 

The girl hadn’t occupied a spare thought in my brain since we first met, but now it seemed she owned real estate in the most prominent section. It was beginning to drive me insane. 

A blonde ponytail walked past my table at the library and immediately drew my attention away from the borrowed laptop. One quick glance at her face revealed I’d never met her before, and I frowned. 

“I have to call it quits for the day.” The sound of Lavinia’s voice brought me back to reality and I watched as she began to pack all of her things up. “My kickboxing class starts in an hour. I have to go home and change first.” 

“Yeah, I have practice soon.”

She raised an eyebrow up at me before snorting. 

“Practice? With that thing?”

_That Thing_ being the obnoxious sling. Peeta had returned it after my… _outburst_ but I was counting down the hours until I could throw it in the trash for good. 

“I’ll manage.”

“Yeah, I’m tapped out for today,” Thom agreed, drumming a pencil against the side of the table. Despite the insistence that he benefited just as much as the rest of us from the study group, it was blatantly obvious that he ran the show. 

We teased, calling him the _Professor,_ which he hated. But he was the only one out of the four of us who could make sense of the confusing study guides handed out in lecture. Not only that, but he was actually really good at Calculus. It came second nature to him.

I wasn’t sure how I’d stumbled into yet another rag-tag group like this one, but it seemed to be my way. Finding the strangest mix of people to associate with. Maybe that was all part of the college experience. 

Rounding out the group of Thom, me and Lavinia was Pollux, who was pretty funny but in the quiet and unexpected way. He would go nearly the whole session without saying a word only to slap us with a zinger when we least expected it. Plus, he always brought snacks, which practically made him MVP.

I wasn’t sure what had made Thom single any of us out to form a study group with, but I owed him a lot for it. Thanks to him, it cut my independent work time in half, which was essential given my schedule.

I wasn’t the only one who felt indebted to him, too.

“Thom, I owe you,” Lavinia exhaled. “If you ever need a Spanish tutor, I won’t charge.” 

“That’s kind of you, Lav.” 

“I could probably get you a ticket or two this season,” I said, only half joking. Lavinia’s eyes widened and she pointed a manicured finger in my direction.

“He wins.”

“If only I was a football fan,” Thom shrugged. “Probably the only one on campus who’s not. More of a basketball guy.” 

“Can’t help you there.”

“It’s all good,” he laughed. “Call me lame, but math is fun to me.” 

Yeah, but I hated owing people. He’d done me a huge favor in forming and running the group. If it weren’t for these study sessions, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve fared on finals last semester, and it was proving helpful now, too. 

“Well at least let me get you a beer next time we’re all out. If you see a cute girl or something, I’ll be the best damn wingman at Panem, too.” 

I tipped the chair back onto two legs, rocking in it casually as we lingered in the library a minute. It was still light out, but the sun was setting earlier each day--a sure sign summer was ending. I glanced at my watch. 6:52. Had to be in the gym in forty minutes and I hadn’t even eaten yet.

“Thanks man,” Thom snorted. “But, I’m gay. Thought you knew already.” 

“Yeah, Gale. What the hell?” Lavinia chimed in. 

“How the fuck would I know that?” I asked. “All we ever talk about is homework.”

They all laughed, but Thom’s skin flushed and I wasn’t trying to embarrass the dude after he just opened up about something so personal.

“That’s cool though,” I said, and he seemed hesitant to believe my sincerity. I wanted to assure him that my awkwardness had nothing to do with his sexuality and everything to do with...conversing. Opening up about actual personal parts of life with someone. Happened every time. “Wingman offer still stands.”

“Can I take you up on that, too?” Lavinia asked, and when we all turned to her she bristled. “What? He knows a lot of cute guys.” 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now,” Thom said in response to my offer. “Just sort of focusing on school.”

“Relationships are drama,” I agreed. 

“But, we’re in _college,”_ Lavinia countered. “You should try having a little fun in between all that studying.”

“I have fun…”

“Name one fun thing you did this week,” she challenged and it was my cue to go, or I wouldn’t get anything to eat before practice. 

I rose up from the table and gave Pollux’s shoulder a firm pat before he turned to clasp his hand in my good one.

“I have to head out or Coach will have my balls.” 

“Later,” Thom waved, and Lavinia was drawing him back into debate before I’d barely left the table. 

* * *

Coach took pity on me and let me join the rest of the team in the weight room instead of sitting around like a chump the way I had been. 

“Legs only, Hawthorne.”

Whatever. I would do leg presses and calf raises the whole time as long as it meant doing _something._ Yesterday, Coach had me handing out towels and water bottles and he seemed to gain some sick amusement from it, too. 

“Got it,” I answered, heading over to the machines eagerly.

“Don’t over do it. We need you recovered and ready to go by next weekend.” 

“I feel fine now,” I insisted, making a show of moving my arm around but Coach immediately held a hand up for me to stop. 

“Just follow the doctors orders and don’t push it.” 

“Hey, what gives? No goodies today, water boy?” Cato laughed, holding his arms out in feigned irritation. He sat spread eagle on the bench press, body drenched with sweat. Far too much of him on display through the mesh gym shorts.

“I was getting used to it.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He stood up and swapped places with Thresh so that he was spotting while Thresh lifted the heavy weight that rest above him. I started to walk away as they got into position, but Cato kept pushing me.

“So. I saw your little librarian the other day.”

“My what?” 

“Madge, right? The chick who wanted your autograph.” 

Dumbass didn’t even remember that it was me who came up with that idea, not Madge. The look of disgust in her eyes as I asked for a pen was still poignant in my memory. 

Thresh grunted beneath the weight of the press above him, grimacing in his effort to lift the heavy bar.

“Hey, pay attention,” I said, motioning to him and then Cato’s hands shot out to help spot the bar as it rose.

“What about her?”

“She was at the coffee house in the Union and I recognized her. We talked for a minute.”

“Do you want me to congratulate you?”

“Nah, but you can tell me if she’s single.” 

There it was. Honestly, I should’ve known that was where the conversation was headed. For a moment, I was silent. Too taken aback to get words out. Why the hell was he interested in if Madge was single or not? Unable to keep the question to myself, I asked as much.

“Because I usually like to make sure girls are before hitting them up,” he chuckled. 

This guy was a buffoon. The idea of him asking Madge out was actually laughable. I could picture her in my head clearly, one eyebrow raised in amusement, lips pursed as she tried to not laugh in his face. She would be polite when she turned him down though. Wouldn’t cause a scene. But the idea of Cato coming back to the gym with his tail tucked between his legs was highly entertaining. 

Peeta’s eyes met mine from a few feet over and our conversation from the other day rang fresh in my mind. I didn’t like the way he seemed to sense how much Cato’s inquisition bugged me. It didn’t matter that he thought she was cute, or even that he wanted to ask her out. Madge was nothing to me other than a co-worker. A nice co-worker that I was a dick to and who now hated me.

"She's got a sweet ass."

“Davidson, if you don’t shut up and spot me I’m gonna rip _your_ sweet ass--” 

“Chill, bro,” Cato said, cutting Thresh off with a snicker. He grabbed the bar, lifting it back onto its resting spot and allowing Thresh the rest as he turned back to me. “So what's the deal, Hawthorne? You got claim on her already?” 

_Got claim on her?_ What was she, a dog? 

“Nope.” I fought to keep my tone neutral, unwilling to give too much away. “She’s single, far as I know.” 

“Cool. I’ll send her a message or something.”

“Aren’t you missing something crucial like her number?” Thresh asked him. 

“Not when Instagram is alive and well, my dude. Found her easily. She follows the Nightlocks’ page.”

What was he, Sherlock fucking Holmes? He was so proud to admit the discovery too, like cyber stalking a chick was something to be praised for instead of suspect. 

And what was Madge doing following the Nightlocks, anyways? She’d never expressed interest in football and the little bit we’d discussed it in the past showed she was grossly under informed about it. 

“Her bio says she’s pre-med. That’s pretty hot.”

It was hotter than hell in the gym, not helped by all the body heat adding to the temperature. I swept my sweaty hair back into a bun and off of my face and tried not to grit my teeth.

Cato was the type of guy who fed off of any sort of feedback, be it good or bad. I bit my tongue to keep from giving him the satisfaction, but reminded myself that revenge was sweet.

And when Madge turned him down, it was going to be the sweetest.

+++

It felt like days had passed before I was back in my bed, lying comfortably in the embrace of darkness, free from that stupid sling.

I tossed an old football up to the ceiling, catching it as it fell back down, mind drifting between thoughts of homework and football and Madge freakin’ Undersee.

If she was speaking to me still, I might text to warn her about her new admirer. But the joke would fall flat without an apology first, and I somehow doubted she’d take kindly to one via text at almost midnight. 

My phone buzzed on the table beside me, illuminating the dark room temporarily before going dim again, unanswered. 

Then the pattern repeated.

Despite the number showing up unknown, I knew exactly who it was. The longer it went unanswered, the more acute the anxiety in my chest grew. 

I kept focus on the ball, tossing it up and down. Up and down. A physical anchor that kept me from reaching out to answer the call and making a decision I knew I would instantly regret.

On the seventh ring, I caved.

I slid the bar over to answer, pressing it to my ear with a sharp inhalation. 

“Stop--” 

“Don’t hang up, Gale.”

The harsh words died on my lips at his command, and I could feel my heartbeat thrumming through my ears as I unconsciously obeyed, finger slipping away from the _end call_ button.

“Are you there?” he asked after the silence stretched uncomfortably between us. His voice was different, softer. The way it was when he hadn’t been drinking. 

“I’m here.”

I sat up in bed, noticing the way my fingers pulled at a loose string on the blanket below me. My foot couldn’t stop tapping.

“I saw your injury last weekend. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

The thought of the minor shoulder injury being broadcast, probably replayed for viewer enjoyment irritated me beyond belief. Especially knowing he had seen it.

“It’s fine.”

“You have a doctor look at it?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Good. It was a damn good game you played up until that point.”

I swallowed audibly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He seemed to be waiting on something too, growing silent on the other line. My patience was wearing thin though until the point came where I couldn’t hold off any longer.

“What do you want, Dad?” 

“I can’t call to check up on my boy?”

He could. But he never did. Never had cared to check on me when I actually _was_ a boy. Not until he needed something.

I didn’t bother refuting him though. He was in a good mood it seemed. Sober. Stable. There was no sense rocking the boat.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, trying my best to sound like I meant it. I’d taken pride in the fact that it had been two long years since I saw him for any extended capacity. I fought hard to hold onto that pride anytime we spoke. There was time to fall apart later.

“I’m glad. Well, I know you’re probably busy but I’m glad you took the time to pick up the phone. Try answering more often, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Give your brothers and sister a kiss for me next time you see ‘em.”

I felt bile rising up in my throat and let out a heavy breath through my nose. When the line disconnected, I barely made it to the bathroom before my dinner reappeared.

“Fuck.” I spat into the bowl, pushing hair back out of my eyes. I waited a few minutes to make sure I was truly finished before getting up and scrubbing away the sweat from my face and foul taste from my mouth. 

I sighed heavily and stared back at myself in the mirror, watching as beads of water dripped off my chin and into the sink and wondering how it was even possible to feel like things were so right and so out of control at the same time. 

* * *

Finnick was out of control.

I was finding out that once he got an idea in his brain, it was impossible to get it out. Friday night after practice, his wild idea was to crash a frat party. With no game or classes in the morning, there was really no excuse to not go.

I wasn’t normally one to turn down a night out, anyways. Hanging out down on the District or finding parties around campus was always a good time, but frat parties had a reputation for a reason. Last thing I needed was to be arrested or thrust into some other type of unwanted spotlight because of some other idiots. But Thresh wanted to meet up with Delly, and Delly was already down on greek row. Finnick was just sick of getting kicked out of bars early because Peeta and I weren’t twenty-one yet. So when they turned to me and asked if I was in, I was left with no other choice than to reluctantly tag along.

Greek row was heavily populated, with music pounding through the open windows and students scattered all down the block. On the front lawn, a sign advertised that girls with valid Panem University ID’s got free entry. For everyone else, it was a twenty-dollar door fee. What a load of bullshit.

“There better be good beer here,” I muttered as I fished my wallet out from my pocket and forfeited my last twenty-dollar bill. 

“Come on, loosen the purse strings a little,” Finnick teased, elbowing me in the ribs. “A drink is just what you need.”

“Yeah.” 

“Boys! You made it!” 

Delly came bouncing down the front lawn wearing a bright smile and jean shorts that did well to show off her curvy thighs. Her corkscrew curls were pulled back into a messy bun on top of her head and her typically pale cheeks were flush from drinking.

Even as she approached, she took another long sip out of her cup before licking her lips. 

“We have to take advantage of a free weekend, right?” Finnick asked, to which she raised her glass.

“Hell yes.” 

It didn’t take long for her to link hands with Thresh’s, and judging by the look on his face the two of them were in good standing.

It was often hard to tell with the two of them. One minute they were going at it like rabbits and the next she was shooting daggers at him across the field while waving pom poms. It was hard to keep up, and because Thresh was a pretty private person, I never really asked. But I had to assume Delly was hiding some sort of secret talent behind all her innocent smiles for him to keep running back the way he did.

It wasn’t long before they disappeared, and I was trailing behind Peeta and Finnick pathetically. We circled around the pool table-turned-bar and grabbed a few drinks before surveying the party. Seemed like the most fun was taking place out back, where there was a large lake and pier and even more music. Inside, the lighting was low and it seemed the majority of people were using it as a good place to make out and get handsy. I took a long swig of my beer.

“Shit,” Finnick groaned. “We’ve got clingers at five o’clock.”

I glanced over with just my eyes to where he was looking and saw a few girls making their way closer. Familiar, but I couldn’t remember any of their names. Most likely part of the party crew which liked to go out with the athletes. Sometimes they’d even show up at the hotel during away games. Good for a fun night, but desperate. 

Though harsh, Finnick’s description wasn’t inaccurate.

“Peeta, cover me,” he muttered before turning on a charming smile and greeting the duo. Preoccupied by _the quarterback,_ I backed away before I could be saddled into conversation, and made my way out towards the backyard.

And out of all the people there--so many it was hard to take a few steps without running into someone--the person I picked out from the crowd was Madge Undersee.

Ever since our run-in at the Union, she was showing up everywhere. I didn’t know if it was the universe’s way of punishing me or what, but it felt like more than coincidence.

She was easy to spot, though. Amidst the sea of crop tops and curls, she was dressed in a reasonable pair of jeans and button up sweater. 

At a frat house.

Her hair was pulled back off her face in a messy bun, signature frames resting on the bridge of her nose as she chatted casually with some dude. 

Subconsciously, I sized him up.

He wasn’t more than half an inch taller than Madge, but she was on the taller side. Medium build and blindingly bronzed hair. 

She looked up, only for half a second but it was long enough to catch my gaze. Fuck. There was no pretending we hadn’t seen each other, and now she was openly staring. Daring me to come over and acknowledge her.

Sweet thing. She didn’t know me well enough to know I was always up for a challenge. 

I sauntered over, appearing unaffected as I stopped right in front of her. Madge, to all her credit, tried her best to look bored too.

Or maybe she actually was. I didn’t know her well enough, either. 

“I have to admit, this is the last place I expected to run into you,” I said in way of greeting, arms folded across my chest. 

Madge raised a formidable eyebrow up at me.

“Why’s that?”

“You didn’t strike me as the _frat party_ type.”

“Oh? And what type do I strike you as?” 

“The...cardigan wearing type.”

Subconsciously, she pulled on it a little, eyes narrowing. 

“It’s been a long week. I wanted a drink and no one is checking ID’s.” 

“You badass.”

“I have my days.”

She smirked a little, proud of herself for holding her own. I had to admit, it wasn’t something I was used to.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I eyed the dude standing between us, who looked like he wanted to gouge my eyes out.

“You’re not. This is my roommate, Darius. Darius, Gale. My…” she trailed off, cheeks flushed. “Hawthorne.” 

He extended a hand out to me with a tight smile.

“The famous roommate with the accent,” I tried, but Darius only gave me a long up and down. “...Chameleon effect, right?” 

“I’m going to get a refill, Madge.” He moved past us, completely ignoring me, to look at Madge. “You want one?” 

“What a prince,” she smiled, handing him her cup. 

Darius pretended to flip hair that didn’t exist by his shoulder with a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well, if I left it up to you, you’d end up in a discussion about the chemical structure of alcohol or something.”

I laughed, earning a disapproving look from him before he stood up a little straighter. 

“You okay if I leave you for a minute more?”

“Take your time.”

“Be-are-be.”

I watched her give a cautious little wave in departure before she adjusted her posture in the grass, just for something to do. Despite only being six inches away from each other, she refused to look up and meet my eyes. I waited her out a long minute, but she refused to crack. 

“What was so difficult about this week?” I hedged and finally we had eye contact.

“You, for starters.”

“Still mad at me, huh?” 

“Well I haven’t exactly gotten an apology,” she muttered beneath her breath. “I’m surprised you’re willing to let anyone see us talking in public.” 

“Is that why Darius was shooting daggers at me?”

“He’s like my big brother. He’s protective.”

Good. He should be protective of her. Especially when it came to idiots like me. Being one hundred percent real with myself, Madge Undersee was out of my league. Not that I’d even entertained the idea of her in that way but, let’s call a spade a spade. She was untouchable. Far beyond me. Probably flirted with by future doctors of America and yet I brushed her away like garbage. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were foreign leaving my lips, clinging to the back of my tongue like a curse before finally lodging free. The pain didn’t escape her notice, and Madge let out a low, unamused chuckle. 

“That’s it?” 

“What? You want me to get down on my knees and grovel?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” She shrugged. “If you want me to accept a gesture of goodwill, you could start by being genuine.”

I suppressed the groan building up in the back of my throat. My hands balled inside the pockets of my jeans. Jesus, she could be difficult. 

“I _am_ sorry,” I tried again. “I was being a dick and it wasn’t a good look. Can we forget about it?”

“I still think you’re overcompensating with this whole _macho, too-cool_ act.” 

“Overcompensating for what?” I asked, eyes narrowed. 

Madge bit her lower lip, where red lipstick had faded pink through the course of the night and matched the faint flush on her cheeks.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” she admitted in a mumble. 

“So you think you will, then?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I can generally get a pretty good read on people.”

“But not me?”

“You’re...more arduous than most,” she admitted. 

“Well. Let me know if you find anything. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

She smoothed her hands over her cardigan, pulling it closer to her body despite warm air.

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you the other day. I guess we’ve never really discussed our lives outside of work much.”

“You didn’t embarrass me.” Not really. It wasn’t about _her_ as a person.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bull.” 

I ran a hand through my hair, not at all used to being called out on my responses to people. Most people took my short answers and sarcasm at face value and didn’t really care to elaborate on it.

Should’ve known better that that wouldn’t be the case with Undersee.

“Fine, you want the truth?”

“It’s preferable.”

“Look, we aren’t supposed to be working or anything like that during the season. I could get into serious trouble if anyone found out. Suspended from the team, my scholarship taken away, to name a few of the repercussions. It’s not really an option for me to not though, so I have to keep Hoffman’s on the down low.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I don’t know. _I don’t know._ Such an easy question with one hundred complicated answers.

“I panicked. You said it yourself, we’ve never really talked about our lives outside of Hoffman’s much and I just wasn’t expecting to run into you on campus that day.”

“So, what? Your big plan was to keep me at arm’s length forever?” she asked, mulling it over in her head a moment before adding, “That’s pretty stupid.”

“I never said I was smart.”

She scowled a little, but the playfulness was back in her eyes, a small hint that I was on the road to forgiveness.

“I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know, I just…”

_Just don’t trust anybody._ _Just have been burned so many times it seems more logical to hurt people than let them in._

Yeah, I wasn’t going to say all of that. So the words just trailed off awkwardly, lingering in the dead space between us.

“I can’t be friends with someone who treats me the way you did. I don’t mind that you have secrets, Gale, but I’m not going to be one of them.”

I wanted to remind her that we weren’t friends. Not really. I didn’t even know how to begin being one, but it seemed like the exact opposite of the right thing to say in the moment.

“That’s...fair.”

“I don’t know what kind of people you’re used to being around, but I’m not going to be walked all over.”

“Okay,” I muttered, and she stared at me for a long moment, studying me before finally nodding, as if satisfied. 

“So the next time you see me on campus…?”

“I’ll introduce you as my best friend in the entire world to everyone within a five mile radius.”

“Bare minimum,” she chuckled, seeming to hone in on my arm then. “How’s your shoulder?”

I fought the urge to tell her it was _fine,_ because I knew she wouldn’t believe me anyways and I didn’t really want to welcome follow up questions.

“It’s getting better. Should be fine to play next week.”

“Carefully,” she agreed with a nod. “Is that like, your scoring arm?” 

I lifted an eyebrow up at her, and immediately her porcelain cheeks flushed.

“My _scoring_ arm?” 

“Whatever you call it.” She let out a nervous chuckle that made me smirk. “Your touchdown arm. The one you catch balls in.”

“First off, there’s only one ball. And secondly, I’ve never heard of a ‘touchdown arm’ before. Tell me you’ve never watched football.”

“I have,” she scoffed, holding her head up with a false sense of pride. “But I have to admit, it’s not my favorite.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m studying medicine,” she deadpanned, lifting her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose. “You can’t expect me to get behind a sport that makes up the highest rate of concussions in the country for youth sports.”

“It’s not like that’s happening every game.”

“Ah ha, you said it yourself.”

“Said what?”

“It’s a _game._ Games shouldn’t be that serious.”

I opened my mouth in protest, but before anything could come out Darius was back with his drink, eyeing me suspiciously for still being there. 

“I should get going.”

She nodded in silent agreement. 

“But...we’re good?” 

She caught her lip between her teeth as she contemplated the question, leaving me in purgatory, waiting for her answer. Finally, the corners turned up in a sly smile and she gave one small shoulder a shrug.

“For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and to all the people who've left comments! It's so appreciated. Have a great and safe weekend!


	5. September 16-19

* * *

_Well, look who showed up in my head._

_A vision of you crawling in my bed._

-BORNS

* * *

The week leading up to Rosh Hashanah, the deli was decorated to a theme of apples and honey. 

I spotted Madge as she ascended up a medium sized ladder, hanging up a gold sign on the wall which said _Shana Tova!_ alongside apple garland. 

“What does all of this mean again?” I asked, cutting pieces of tape which Madge inspected carefully before applying to her decorations.

“It’s Jewish New Year.”

“Uh huh. And the apples?”

“Apples symbolize rebirth. Honey, a sweet new year,” she said with a smile, hopping down off the ladder and stepping back to admire her work. 

After Wednesday evening, the deli would remain closed until the following Monday in observance for the holiday, which started Thursday at sundown and lasted two nights. Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman decided to extend the closure to spend the rest of the weekend with their kids, which I thought was nice.

“Try this,” she said, holding out a bite sized piece of honey cake for me to take. I eyed it with skepticism, never being much of a sweets person, but accepted the offering. To my surprise, it was delicious. Not overly sweet, but generous in flavor. Madge noticed my expression and giggled. Her mood seemed lighter than normal, if possible. Excited for the upcoming holidays, I assumed.

“That’s not half bad.”

“They shouldn’t be. I’ve been making them since I was six.”

“Shana Tova,” Mr. Hoffman greeted as he held the main door of the deli open for his family to enter. Immediately, they all noted and admired the decorating Madge and I had done. 

“Shana Tova,” Madge said back, moving out from behind the counter to properly greet the children. They ran up to her, the way one would an old friend and I watched their small arms wrap around her neck and waist as she bent down to their height to accept them. It made my chest hurt, thinking of the way Rory and Posy came rushing up to me every time I came home for a visit. The Hoffman’s middle child must’ve been around the same age as Posy.

“Madge, you’re coming over for dinner Thursday night, right?” one of the kids asked eagerly and when she nodded in confirmation, her ponytail flipped from side to side.

“Yep. Friday too.”

That sent the kids into a tailspin of excitement, one I couldn’t help but chuckle at as Mr. Hoffman came up to stand on the other side of the counter as me.

“You’re welcome to join us too, Gale. We’d be happy to have you.”

“Thanks, but I have practice those nights.” I didn’t bother mentioning that they would finish in time for me to get to the Hoffman’s probably. Most of the time we were done in the evening by six. But Madge was a family friend of the Hoffman’s, not just some girl who worked a few shifts a week at their deli. The holiday held special meaning to them. The idea of me crashing felt like I would be tainting it somehow. Taking away from its sacredness with my lack of knowledge and experience.

“Well, if anything changes, the offer still stands,” Mr. Hoffman said with a smile. “The place looks fantastic. Thanks for doing this.”

“It was fun,” Madge promised, coming back behind the counter to stand beside me. 

“She did all of the work. I just stood underneath her to make sure she didn’t break her neck.”

“Every bit counts,” Mrs. Hoffman chuckled, while her husbands went to the office to collect the deposit. They stayed a few more minutes, mostly making small talk before heading out again and wishing us a good evening. 

“Well, now what?” I asked once it was just the two of us again. Madge quirked a brow up at me, gesturing to the deli.

“Now we study.”

“Come on nerd, take one night off from the books.”

“I’m taking two off later this week,” she reminded me. “And because I’ll be missing class, I need to take my musculoskeletal test for Anatomy tomorrow. It’s the biggest one we’ll have until midterms, I need to do well.”

“Being pre-med sounds like a lot of grief.”

“I’m sure playing football is no walk in the park either,” she replied evenly. “You have to balance athletics with games and a job...a _secret job_ at that.” At her wink I glowered. “But it’s worth it because you love to play, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“There you go. We’re not so different.”

We were plenty different, but it wasn’t much worth pointing out. 

“Alright fine,” she sighed, setting her cards down. “Let’s play. Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.”

Her smile increased largely. Smugly. 

“I dare you to help me study for my musculoskeletal test tomorrow.”

I groaned, giving in as she handed over a stack of flashcards thicker than the Pastrami sandwich on our menu. Flipping through them made me want to blow my brains out, but Madge was waiting patiently for me to begin quizzing her, feet dangling off the edge of the countertop.

“Name the bone types.”

I turned the card over, where in a neat script she had written; _cancellous and compact._

Madge’s tongue poked out from between her front teeth while she thought and her hands knotted in the center of her lap.

“Let’s see. There’s cancellous, the lighter, spongier bone. That’s easy to remember because lighter is less and when something gets canceled it’s less than before.” 

I blinked. 

“Whatever you say.”

“Well, it’s not whatever _I_ say…” she muttered, snatching the card out of my hand. “You’re supposed to be quizzing me, Gale.”

I snatched it right back. Little cheat.

“I am. But you only have two words written on this card. One of them is cancellous. You get half a point.”

“Wait, I’m not finished,” she protested. “The other type is compact.”

“Let me guess, the way you remember it is by thinking of a compact mirror?” I teased.

“Hmm. That’s a cute one. You’re good at this,” she complimented, and I’d never been called _cute_ in that way before. “But actually what helps me is thinking of those compressors that crush trash into small compact cubes because they look dense and heavy and that’s what compact bones are.”

“You are so weird.”

“Full credit. Next question.”

“What is the bicep brachii’s function?”

“Flexion of the elbow and supination of the forearm,” she said proudly. “It’s one of the main muscles my character uses in _Final Tribute_ to perform her signature knife throwing move.”

I set the note cards down, giving her a disbelieving stare. 

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Hmm?”

“You play _Final Tribute?”_

“I don’t just play,” she said with a sweet smile. “I hold one of the top scores. You?"

Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable. 

“I’d crush you,” I goaded, but it did little to intimidate Madge who only brushed me off.

“You’re all talk, Hawthorne.” 

We went through about ten more cards before my stomach interrupted with a loud groan. Madge’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

“Hungry?”

“I’m starving.” I hadn’t had time before my shift to eat. All I’d been thinking about for the past hour and a half was going home and finding the most carb-filled thing to load up on. 

“I’m a little hungry too,” Madge commented. “I think I have a protein bar in my bag we can split.” 

“Keep your protein bar. That would fill me up for all of five minutes. You like Mexican food?” 

“Yeah?” Her reply was filled with skepticism, like she wasn’t sure where I was going with the question and wanted to tread lightly. 

“Cool. There’s this place down on the District, Casa de Maya, they’ve got the best tacos. Closes at midnight, but if we get everything cleaned and locked up on time we could make it.”

“We?” 

Yeah, I had to admit that was kind of weird. I’d never asked a girl out on a non-date before, so casually too. Her wide eyed stare was enough to make me shrug it off, like it wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

She smiled, hopping off the counter and got to work sweeping the front of the deli. I went back to the kitchen, making sure everything was prepped for morning and ready to go. We punched out right as our shift ended and were in our cars heading back towards campus five minutes later. 

Casa de Maya was underrated. A small hole-in-the-wall type restaurant that you might miss entirely if you were too focused on the flashy lights of the bars and more popular hangout joints along the strip of the District. 

It housed just seven or eight tables inside, with exposed brick walls and traditional Mexican decor. 

I first found the place with Hazelle and the kids, the weekend they were helping me move into the dorms my Freshman year. Everyone was hungry and Rory was insistent on a quesadilla. The memory was a good one. Just the five of us, surrounding a table, laughing. Sharing one last afternoon together before they would drive back to Waukesha. Salsa staining Posy’s shirt and a string of cheese stretching from the quesadilla to Rory’s lips. Even Vick seemed happy as I slung a casual arm around his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

Madge beat me to the restaurant. There was never any decent parking available directly on the District, so it was easier to park outside of the apartment and walk the few blocks there. When I stepped inside, she was the only late-night patron. Looking over the menu like she was studying it for a test, she barely noticed me until I was right on top of her.

“Anything look good?”

_“Everything_ looks good,” she said passionately. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at food the same way again. Nutrition 101 has spoiled everything for me.” 

“So, what made you pick pre-med, anyways?” I asked, grabbing a handful of napkins from the condiment stand before joining her at the table. 

“I’ve always been good at science. Biology fascinates me and I want to help people.” She shrugged, twirling a piece of hair around her finger absently. 

“You know doctors have the highest suicide rates, right?”

“You’re thinking of dentists.”

“Dentists are doctors.”

“Not the kind I want to be.”

“What kind do you want to be?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she mused. There was this thing she did, when she thought hard about something. Her eyes tilted up towards the ceiling and her lips pursed to one side. “But, I have time to figure it out. Once I’m in med school I’ll need to do rotations through practically every department in the hospital, so I figure by the time I graduate I’ll have an idea which pathway to choose for my residency.” 

Our waiter walked up to take our orders, leaving a basket of chips and salsa behind. Ordering required little thought on my end; four traditional tacos with a side of rice. Madge ordered hers with chicken, opting out of the cheese and sour cream. 

“How long does all of that take? The residency, I mean,” I asked.

“Three more years of undergraduate--including this one--four years medical school, up to seven in a residency. Depending on which specialty I choose.” She sighed deeply. 

“Jesus.”

“Don’t worry, I grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy with my mother. I know what I’m getting myself into,” she joked.

My natural quietness did little to deter Madge, who kept right on talking until our food arrived about how her parents had been so proud that she chose pre-med for a major and how she felt pressured to succeed because of it.

“I mean, who’s to even say I’ll make it into medical school?”

I took a bite from my taco, hunching over when the contents started to spill out the back-end, so that my plate would catch them. 

“Why wouldn’t you get in?”

“It’s crazy competitive.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like there’s only one medical school in the country,” I argued, but Madge was already shaking her head. 

“No, you don’t get it. During orientation do you know what they told us? Only 3% of students in the room would actually get to the point of being able to apply for med school. Of those 3% only 1% would ever make it in. _One percent.”_

“And it’ll include you.”

She laughed loudly, like she really thought I was insane. 

“If only we all had your confidence, Gale Hawthorne.”

“Look, do you think in high school I ever imagined playing college football? At one of the best schools in the country? Hell no. I hadn’t imagined ever even being in the same stratosphere as that. But...here I am. Running around with a football on ESPN most Saturdays.”

“Wait, they put you guys on _ESPN?”_

“Stick with me, Undersee. The lack of knowledge you have about the school you attend astounds me.”

“In my defense--”

“Ah, ah,” I said, holding a chip up in the air. She leaned in slyly, biting it right out of my hand and smiling at the stunned expression I felt on my face.

“Continue,” she invited me in between chewing.

“My point is that if you put enough work in, something has to come out of it. Commitment like that needs to be rewarded.”

“You think I’m committed?”

“I know you and your cardigan showed up at that frat house the other week but let’s be real, you spend the majority of your time at Hoffman's, the hospital, or your apartment studying. If that’s not commitment, I don’t know what is.”

“Thanks, I think?” she chuckled, pushing a stray hair back behind her ears. “It’s not that I’m against having fun or anything. It’s just...after hearing those numbers, I freaked a little, you know? Every time I’m away from the books my mind is just repeating _one percent, one percent._ Like one of those annoying little birds.”

“A Jabberjay?”

“A what? No, I meant a parrot. What the heck is a Jabberjay?” 

I stifled laughter, feeling lighter than I did most of the time I was around anyone. But the night had been more fun than I imagined, and sitting there with Madge, I found it was easy to talk about stupid things like birds.

“They live in the woods and do a great job of mimicking voices. Pretty cool, but they made hunting a bitch.”

“I’ve never heard of them. Must be a strange Wisconsin thing.”

“Must be. Think they’re pretty much extinct these days. More common are their offspring from Mockingbirds...Mockingjays, they’re called. They’re everywhere.”

“Huh. That’s fascinating.” 

“My point is, it’s okay to have some fun every once and a while. Let your hair down. College will be gone before you know it.”

“I just really don’t want to let my parents down.” she sighed. 

“What, they’d cut you off or something if you didn’t become a doctor?” I guessed. 

Madge’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses, and she shook her head so furiously that thick ponytail nearly whacked her in the face.

“No. Nothing like that.” She looked frazzled that my mind had even gone there. “They would never. It’s just...they’ve set aside so much money for me to go to college.”

That was nice, actually. And I found myself wishing I had even the slightest idea of how to relate to what she was talking about. 

“And…” she trailed off before deciding better of herself and brushing it off.

“And what?” I hedged.

“Never mind.”

“Really? Normally I can’t get you to shut up.” 

She knew I was joking and laughed a little to oblige it, but there was something sad in it and the way her eyes stayed downcast made me feel bad for teasing her. 

“Hey,” I said, waiting for her to look back up at me. “It’s cool.” 

“I wasn’t always the best kid, is all. I did some things I really regret. Things I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life.” Her voice cracked with the final word, and her normally bright and sunny disposition was replaced by a cloud of darkness.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“When I told them I wanted to go to med school, they were so proud.” She inhaled deeply and shrugged with defeat. “It’s what they’ve always wanted for me.”

“Is it what you want?”

“I want them to be proud.” 

I didn’t know what it was that she’d done to make herself so sick with guilt, but the crushing weight of it was obvious in her unguarded expression. I thought about the Madge I’d come to know; the bookworm, who balanced a full course load with an internship and part time job. The girl who wore cardigans to frat parties and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose when she talked about something that excited her. And I couldn’t imagine her parents not being proud.

“Anyways, enough about me.” I didn’t miss the quick tear she swiped away as she steadied her voice. “You said you never expected to be on a college team. Don’t they start recruiting in like, middle school?”

“It was a little different for me.”

“Different how?” she inquired. 

“I didn’t get my shit together until senior year.” 

She thought she understood, I saw it in the way she nodded slowly and hummed. It was fine. Let her think I was a slacker, too preoccupied with girls and other shit beyond my years to focus on college and a career. That much wasn’t a lie.

“Well...better late than never, as the expression goes. I for one am glad you got it together.” She smiled, bashful in the way she tipped her head down. “For your sake, I mean.” 

After dinner, when we were walking up the District towards Madge’s car, she noticed mine was missing.

“I don’t live too far away. I just walked over.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” she said, motioning for me to get into her sleek sports car that probably costs more than a year's worth of tuition at Panem. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m just up the block.”

“Gale, it’s almost one in the morning,” Madge said firmly, looking down at her watch. “Get in the car.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” she smiled sweetly, absolutely preening to have won as she slid into the driver’s seat. 

The car smelled nice, like flowers and vanilla, and when I noticed the little diffuser plugged in, releasing the sweet smelling air I gave Madge an incredulous look.

“Really?”

“It helps with stress,” she explained, unapologetically as she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming.

“Just tell me where I’m going.”

“Take a left up here.” 

When we pulled up to the building, Madge bent over the steering wheel to afford herself a better look through the windshield.

“You know, I’ve passed these apartments on campus several times and always wondered what bougie people lived in them. I think we can officially agree that you’ve lost the privilege to tease me about money.”

“It’s not my place. I just rent a room, and there’s three of us living here so it cuts down on rent costs.” 

“Whatever you say,” she smiled. “Still makes my apartment look like a dollhouse.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s true.” 

“I’ll just head back to peasant row, imagining what lies beyond the palace walls,” she sighed wistfully, a joking smirk on her lips. 

“You can come inside,” I chuckled, amused by her dramatics. 

“It’s late. I should go home, but if the offer is a standing one I’ll take you up on it another time. I still need to beat you at _Final Victor_.”

“You will never beat me at _Final Victor_ , but you’re welcome to come over and _lose_ anytime.”

“Let me know when you’re actually free, Hawthorne,” she replied boldly as I opened the car door, leg halfway out onto the pavement. “I don’t accept general invitations.” 

“I’ll get back to you.” 

“I’m sure,” she smiled, waving to me as I rose out of her car fully. The window was down by the time I crossed the empty street.

“Get in safely,” she sang, making me roll my eyes.

“Get out of here, Undersee.”

She drove off as I entered the building, climbing the winding staircase up to the apartment. 

Finnick was still awake, sitting on the couch idly scrolling through the TV guide. He acknowledged me with a lazy wave, barely looking away from the screen.

“You were out late." His accusatory tone heavily implied hidden meaning to his words. 

“Sorry I forgot to call, Mom.” 

“Did you have a good time?” He wiggled his eyebrow, crossing his legs over the coffee table.

“Yep.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, noncommittally, and turned back to the television, calling out for me to have a good night as I headed down the hall.

“You too.” 

I peeled the _Hoffman’s Deli_ shirt off, tossing it in the corner near the hamper and then did the same with my jeans before falling into bed. Laying there in the dark, with the comfortable pillows beneath my head, I felt right on the brink of sleep.

First though, I unlocked my phone, searching Madge’s name in the contacts to send a message. 

_Me (1:08am):_ Wednesday night.

**Madge (1:08am):** Works for me.

_Me (1:10am):_ I wouldn’t be so eager for an ass kicking if I were you.

**Madge (1:10am):** Lol. Goodnight, Gale.

* * *

Nothing was going right. 

I’d overslept, straight through my alarm, and missed the first lecture of the day. Walked around with my shirt inside out until fucking Thresh told me. Overdrew my bank account by thirty cents last night and was charged $38.50 for it. 

So by the time I was running late to practice, I was ready to punch something my frustration was so built up. The team was already assembled on the field, doing basic warm ups as I jogged to meet them.

“Hawthorne,” Coach called, brow furrowed with clear irritation. “You’re late.”

My pace slowed as I made it to center field, all eyes on me.

“My bad,” I said, shoving my helmet on. 

_“Your bad?”_ Coach mimicked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, it was an accident.” Someone was in a rotten mood. Fuck, it wasn’t like I was late all the damn time.

His jaw clenched, studying me, and then he raised his whistle to his lips and blew it harshly twice.

“Line up, now.”

We did as instructed, forming a straight line down in the end zone. Coach measured forty yards and placed a cone down. A low, collective groan sounded throughout the team.

“We’re a team. We play together, we practice together, we warm up together. You kids have Hawthorne to thank for this extra warm up. Let’s go, forty yard sprint.” 

He blew the whistle and we ran, fast as each of our legs could carry us until we made it to the end of the forty yards. We’d only just made it before he blew his whistle again, signaling we go back downfield.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Ten times before his whistle finally stopped and we were left panting in the end zone. 

“Sixty yards, go.”

Coach was relentless. _40, 60, 80, 100_ was a typical sprinting game we played during the Spring season warm ups, but it never lasted this long. Never without hardly any sort of break.

I bent at the knees, sweat collecting in the center of my brow before falling down in a steady drip to the grass. The heavy sound of uneven breaths and panting filled my ears on either side of me, my team just as desperate to catch their breath as me.

The whistle blew, and when we looked up in disbelief, unmoving, he sounded it sharply twice more.

My legs were burning, every muscle in them screaming for me to stop. And it was my job to run. I couldn’t imagine how some of the other guys felt right about now. 

Finally, Coach let his whistle fall down against his chest. I heard one guy dry heaving off to my left, and on the other side of me several had collapsed into the grass.

“If you’re going to throw up, do it in the bathroom. This grass is expensive,” Coach snapped, and the rookie took him up on the offer, jogging to the locker rooms on wobbly legs.

“Now.” Coach came to stand in front of me, severe eyebrows dipped and mouth set in a hard line. “What do you have to say about your tardiness?”

I clenched my jaw, but pushed down the urge to reply smartly. If for no other reason than I didn’t want to be ostracized from the team. Or kicked out of my apartment.

I exhaled through my nostrils heavily and stared back at him pointedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Good. Fifteen laps, then join us back on the field.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said beneath my breath, ready to kick up some of the _expensive grass_ they had implanted into the practice field. 

“What did you say?” Coach asked, nothing escaping his ears. 

“Nothing!” I shouted back with a groan of annoyance, starting to jog to the edge of my field.

“See me in my office after practice, Hawthorne.” 

There was no hiding my anger by the time I was sitting in Coach’s office, grinding my teeth, leg bouncing with pent up energy as I waited for him to lay into me. Coach spent a good long minute just staring at me, trying to intimidate me no doubt. It would take a lot more than a look to do that. Finally he sighed, disappointed clear in his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get it together.” 

“It was one practice. You don’t think you’re overreacting a bit?”

“Not when you’ve already been injured, missed a week's worth of drills and skipped two meetings with your advisor. Things need to change. _Now._ Last thing I want is to put you on athletic probation, but don’t think I won’t.”

I forced myself to sit silently, knowing that anything I had to say right now would only make the situation worse. 

“I just want to see you succeed, son. You have so much potential and you’re wasting it.” 

The use of the familial term sat rottenly in my stomach. So that’s what this was? A pep talk? Friendly conversation between ‘father and son’? My fight or flight instincts were kicking in, and before the urge to act on the former rose up out of control, I stood, turning towards the door.

“I’ll step it up,” I murmured, and it seemed to appease Coach.

“Thank you, son.” 

The door flung open and I couldn’t hold back when I turned back around.

“I’m not your son.”

* * *

Peeta’s idea for ‘family dinners’ was a lame one. I knew that upon accepting. Lame as it might be though, it wasn’t an entirely bad one.

We ordered out; pizza and wings, something we rarely were able to do while in the middle of a season. Every bite of cheesy goodness was like a shot of endorphins, giving us all a superficial high not unlike the one we experienced on the field. Between that and beer, the mood was pleasantly light. 

“Seriously though, I hope you were getting sucked off or something and that’s what made you late,” Finnick said, tipping his beer bottle in my direction with an accusatory look. “My legs still feel like jello from all those drills.”

“He was definitely in a bad mood today,” Peeta agreed lowly from the other corner, frowning.

“Whatever,” I muttered around my last bite, handing Peeta my crust. “Jokes on him though, because I was late today and I’ll definitely be over for weigh in tomorrow.”

Finnick laughed, louder than I’d ever heard him, and when he tipped his beer bottle towards me, I tapped the neck of mine against his. 

“If we have to run more 40, 60, 80’s because of you, I’m going to kick your ass.”

I’d like to see him try.

“You know where to find me, Odair.”

* * *

The week was passing quickly, to the point that when Wednesday came I was surprised by its haste. 

The sky was dark as thunderstorms rolled in and when Madge stepped into the apartment, she shook off the rain from her umbrella gratefully. I took her jacket, hanging it up quick as she made work of cleaning her glasses off and smoothing down her hair, which wasn’t up for the first time that I can remember. 

“Thanks,” she sighed out, finally settled, and then her eyes trailed over the open space of the apartment critically.

“Is it everything you imagined?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest as I tried to see what she was for the first time. 

It wasn’t a bad place. Not at all. White walls stretched up to high ceilings and on the far side of the living room was a massive window. The open floor plan made it look larger than it was, with the kitchen directly straight from the front door and stairs on the other side of the shared wall that led up to the loft.

“And more,” she teased with a wink before she settled back in on Peeta. 

He was in the kitchen, headphones in and completely oblivious as he cooked with ease. Her fascination seemed to grow as she watched him dice an onion into small pieces before brushing them into the boiling pot on the stove. It wasn’t until she was practically on top of him that he seemed to notice she was there.

“Sorry,” Madge chirped as he pulled his headphones out. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Madge, and I have to assume you’re Peeta. Gale told me one of his roommates was a chef.”

“In training,” Peeta joked, face flushed as he extended a hand in greeting. “It’s nice to actually meet you.”

“What are you making?” I watched her watch Peeta as he started to talk about cooking and culinary school and his family’s bakery back in Virginia. The way her eyes focused so intensely on what he was saying, listening so thoughtfully. Seeming intrigued whether she actually was or not.

“That’s fascinating,” she murmured in between his sentences, and I felt inclined to believe she was telling the truth. That she was just that genuinely interested in people.

“Hey man,” Finnick said in greeting, popping one of the cherry’s that sat on the counter into his mouth. He honed in on Madge almost instantly and his smile increased. “Whoa, didn’t know we had company.”

She spun around, offering a kind smile and I saw a look that concerned me in Finnick’s eyes.

“Finnick, this is Madge.” 

“Madge.” In the most ridiculous manner possible he took her hand in his, bending over to place a kiss on the back of her palm. It worked too, because she was completely dazzled by him. “Very nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“I was just thinking to myself there’s been a severe lack of beautiful women in this house.”

“Oh, well. Happy to oblige.” She faked a courtesy that made both Finnick and Peeta chuckle, charmed by her. How could they not be? I still wasn’t a fan of the way Odair looked at her, though.

“So, how do you know the grump over there, anyways?”

Madge turned back to look at me from over her shoulder, smiling.

“Oh, him? Didn’t he tell you? I’m his best friend in the entire world.”

Peeta and Finnick both blinked, their confusion only growing when Madge and I shared an unexpected laugh.

“She’s joking.” 

“I’m not.”

“Damn. And all of this time I thought _I_ was your best friend, dude,” Finnick said, clutching his chest dramatically. “This hurts.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“You guys going to play video games?” Peeta asked.

_“Playing_ involves two people--” Madge started.

“Not all the time,” Finnick interrupted her with a sly smirk, which made Madge grin.

“But I will be leaving Gale in my dust,” she continued. “So, I don’t know how much playing he’ll be doing.”

“Bummer. Well if you get bored playing with yourself, feel free to come and find me,” Finnick winked, and I could swear the asshole was doing it all on purpose. Just to see what kind of reaction he was going to get out of me. “I’ll just be down here, tying knots in cherry stems with my tongue. I could teach you, if you’re interested.”

“Thanks,” Madge said, plucking one of the bright red cherries from the bowl on the counter and taking a small bite. “But I know that trick already.”

For once in his damn life, Odair was left speechless as she turned on her heels to lead the way, like she knew where the fuck she was going. 

And I was left to trail behind her, mind racing to catch up as I thought about all the other things she could do with her tongue. 

“Don’t think I forgot about our game,” Madge said once we were up in the loft, sitting on opposite sides of the couch and waiting for _Final Tribute_ to load. 

My eyebrows pinched, confused, because why would I think she forgot about the game that was literally about to start? 

“Truth or dare,” she prompted, like I was the idiot for not making that leap with her.

“Now?” I asked, glancing down at the remote control in my hand. There was only so much ‘daring’ we could do in the middle of a video game.

She nodded though, looking quite pleased with herself as she toyed with the cherry stem still sticking out past her lips. 

“I have a good one.”

The video game started up and we scrolled through the cast of characters before selecting our desired ones.

“Truth, then.” 

“What is your favorite guilty pleasure food?”

I turned to her, confusion irritating me. “What does that even mean?”

“What do you eat when no one is around to judge you? When you’re sad, or happy or just really craving something. If you could choose one completely impractical food to survive on for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Oreo cookies.”

“Ooh, have you ever tried putting peanut butter on them?” she asked, excitement raising her voice and making her eyes grow wider.

“What the fuck? Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

“ _Parent Trap._ My sister and I used to do it all the time. It tastes so good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

The timer was counting us down from ten and Madge and I both got ready for the bloodbath that was prime to begin when the clock hit zero. 

“How about you?” I asked, simply to distract her. 

“Chocolate covered strawberries.” 

She would say that. She _would fucking say that._ That was a sex snack, and knowing her coy little jokes and clever mind, she said it on purpose. 

Chocolate covered goddamn strawberries. Indulgent. Sweet. Sensual. I was beginning to think Madge Undersee was all of those things.

“Never had one.”

“You’re missing out,” she sighed. “We’ll rectify this.”

Like hell we would. I knew the game she was trying to play. The flirtatious undertones to catch me off guard. Make me lose the game so she could gloat.

Make me break the first rule she put into place when we started working alone, so she could gloat even more. 

Wasn’t gonna happen. 

The clock reached zero and immediately Madge and I both headed for the cornucopia in the center, desperate to get the best weapons before the other tributes could grab them. 

“Tell me the grossest thing you’ve ever done,” I asked once I had a bow and arrow in my possession. Two could play at the _truth game._

Her nose scrunched up at the very thought, eyes focused on the screen as she fought off one of the most difficult computer generated tributes. When she round-house kicked him and landed a knife in the center of his head, I shot her an impressed look. 

“Spring Break seventh grade year. My family went to Myrtle Beach on vacation and my cousins and I were in the ocean when I got stung by a jellyfish. I saw on a sitcom once that the best way to get rid of the sting was to pee on it. So I let my two cousins pee on me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the chagrin expression on her face, memory still fresh it seemed as she thought back on it with a shiver.

“Worst part is, it only made it worse. The whole thing is a wives tale, I think.” 

“That’s what you get for taking advice from a television show.”

“I was twelve!” she giggled, the sound only increasing as I continued to tease her. 

“Okay, what about you, hot shot? I’m sure you’ve done plenty of gross things.”

“I ate a pickle once three years past its expiration date.”

_“Why?”_

“I was hungry,” I shrugged, collecting water as I ran into the forest, effectively renewing all of my lives back up to 100%. 

“And you decided a three year old pickle was the best snack?” she questioned.

“Desperate times call for desperate measure,” I said, smirking when she muttered something about boys being gross. 

“Okay, I’ve got one.”

“Lay it on me.” 

We were both in the forest now, our split screen showing two different paths as we raced to collect needed protection and medicines hidden throughout. 

“Tell me one of your biggest flaws.” 

I looked over for a moment, confused. “One of my flaws?”

“I know it’s hard to think of one, you being so perfect and all, but if you can come up with anything,” she teased.

The urge to deflect and give her a lame answer like _I have split ends_ was great, but I pushed it away before it could surface. Madge had opened up to me the other night, with all that talk of med school, and it sort of felt like we had an unspoken policy when it came to our stupid little game. That whatever was said was _Vegas._ It stayed between the two of us. 

“Waiting…”

“I think that...it’s difficult for me to open up.”

Madge hummed, whether in appreciation for my honesty or in agreement, I wasn’t sure.

“Why do you think that is?”

“You’re the doctor, not me,” I quipped. “What do you think?”

She put the remote down in her lap for a moment, studying me with a near blank expression.

“I think you’ve been hurt before. I think your calloused attitude is all a front.”

“Everyone’s been hurt before,” I muttered back and Madge’s lips pinched together.

“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

I beat her. And when she demanded another round, I beat her again.

“I want another rematch,” she demanded. “But not tonight.”

“Need to go home and cry first?” 

“Need to go home and turn in a paper before midnight,” she reiterated, handing me the remote control. “And for the record, I think you cheated.”

“Nope. But, I don’t mind kicking your ass again if you really want me to. You free Sunday?” 

The smile melted from Madge’s face a little as she fiddled with a piece of hair that fell over her shoulder.

“No, I can’t Sunday, actually.”

“Big date?” I teased, feeling less confident about the joke the more awkward she became.

“Yeah, actually. With your friend,” she added. “Cato Davidson.”

“You’re going on a date with Davidson?” I asked, sounding like a complete moron as I sat there in disbelief. _Cato?_ The same douchebag I knew? I had been willing to bet my life savings on her turning him down.

“Yeah. Trying to take your advice,” she smiled, shyly. “ _Live a little._ You were right, college passes by fast. It’s okay to have a little bit of fun sometimes.”

Yeah, fun. 

She was in for loads of _fun_ with Cato.

I grunted in reply, the shift in my mood not escaping her notice.

“You okay?”

Just peachy.

“Fine.”

I had no right to be irritated about her going out with Davidson. We weren’t dating. We weren’t going to date, ever. I’d made peace with that because I knew that Madge could do better than me.

But I refused to believe that Cato Davidson was included in that upgrade. 

“I’m free Monday night,” Madge hedged, trying to lighten the mood.

“I have practice then.”

“Oh.”

Her shoulders deflated a little and she started to pick at something imaginary on her sweater.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said, earning a smile. “You’re not getting out of another beat down that easily.” 

“In your dreams, Hawthorne.” 

* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat, every part of me burning up. 

Dreams of cherry stems and chocolate covered strawberries, pale skin and blue eyes had me coming back to reality with my body pulsing. Heart racing. Muscles clenched. 

Cock rock hard.

I looked down to where my covers had been kicked to the bottom of the mattress, legs spread, boxers tented. It twitched inside of them, letting me know it wasn’t going anywhere on it’s own.

I rolled over on my side in a blind search for the lotion I knew was inside the top drawer of my dresser. The clock on top of it taunting me as it flashed _2:42am._

With a deep sigh, I settled back into the bed, knowing that I was truy fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my friend Jules (victorsvillage on tumblr) for all of her help and insight with the Jewish holiday featured in this chapter. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, see you next time!


	6. September 22-26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Chapter Trigger Warning: ** Brief depictions of antisemitism and descriptions of child abuse.

* * *

_ Boy, it's good to know I've got a bud like you. _

-AJR

* * *

Something wasn’t right. 

Nearly a month had passed since I last heard from dad. The weird, overly-caring conversation still rang through my mind, and the more time that stretched between the call, the more confusing it was. Because he only ever got like that when he wanted something.

But I hadn’t received so much as a text message from him since.

It wasn’t until after the evening’s practice was finished that all the pieces started coming together.

My phone had been kept in the locker room all night, and by the time I got back to it there were several missed calls. The kind I only got when one person was trying to get a hold of me.

Fuck, when would my stomach stop bottoming out every time the phone rang?

“Hey,” I answered on the sixth, once I was in the safety of my car. 

“I need a favor, kid.”

And there it was. No hellos, no niceties. Just straight down to business and suddenly I was a child again.

Only, I wasn’t. I had the control now. There was no reason for me to cater to his will.

“I’m busy.” 

Wasn’t a lie. The night before game day there was curfew, not that any of the guys actually followed it, but technically. And the homework I was behind on would probably have to wait until after tomorrow was over. There wasn’t time for me to drag him out of whatever hole he’d gotten himself into, even if I wanted to help.

“Listen to me.” His voice was sharp, but broken. A man beaten down by the world. “You think I’d come begging to my  _ son _ for help if I didn’t need it?”

I ran a hand through my hair, the internal war of uncontrolled guilt and anger consuming me with his words. I hated the way he always knew how to suck me in without hesitation. The way he knew I’d always give in. 

The way I always did.

I talked so much shit. Such a big game. But in the end I always went back.

And I hated him for it.

But I hated myself more.

“I have a game tomorrow,” I said evenly, knuckles clenching tight around the device. “I have to go.”

“I know you do. And this won’t interfere with it.”

My leg was bouncing uncontrollably. Jaw clenched. The nerves were becoming more uncontrolled the longer the conversation drew out. 

“So are you going to even let me talk or are you just going to hang up?”

I remained silent.

_ “Gale.” _

“What is it?”

“Money.”

“Why did I even ask?” I scoffed beneath my breath. “Who’d you piss off this time?”

“It’s not for drugs. It’s for rent. I’m behind two months and the landlord won’t give me another extension. Son of a bitch. I’ll be out on the streets, living in my truck. And I’d be fine out there, I don’t want you worrying about me. But, I worry about the dog. Don’t know how I’m going to get her food or a decent place to sleep, and she’s getting so old. If I could just have one more month, I could get everything squared away but the fucker refuses.”

We’d been behind on the rent for as long as I could remember. Vivid memories of a man in a suit showing up on our front step, his son--just about my age--standing proudly at his side, sneering at me like the scum I was as his father demanded a check.

My pathetic father begging and promising at the hilt of the door. Drunk. 

Landlord swore if there weren’t kids in the house, he’d have thrown him out on the streets years ago. Well, there weren’t any kids living there anymore. No more excuses.

“I don’t have much.”

“Don’t lie to me. It’s one thing for you to not want to help, but don’t lie. I know that fancy school has to be paying you something. All the money y'all bring in. You’re athletes.”

_ “Student _ athletes,” I corrected. A common misconception among many was that we were paid the same as professional players because we were featured on television and played to crowds of ten thousands. But because we were students, the NCAA got away with not paying us. Practices, games, everything was done for free and it was against the rules for us to take money or presents from the school, sponsors or fans. 

So, no. I wasn’t sitting on millions. Leave it to my father to assume I was.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be working a lame side job if we were getting paid.”

He made a noise from the back of his throat, like he wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe me and had to think it over. Then the line went silent for a tense moment.

“Anything will do, kid. I’ll pay you back. I’m just asking for a loan.”

The few hundred dollars I had saved up was to get ahead on the rent for Peeta. I’d been saving it just in case something happened and I needed the extra money. 

“How much is ‘a few?’” he pressed, when I dumb enough to offer the information up.

“...Eight.”

“That’s great. That’ll be just perfect, son.”

“You need all of it?” I gaped, and he was already stuttering on the other end in reply. 

“I know. I know. But, it’ll get me caught up on the rent owned and give a little extra for the dog. She’s just about out of food now and I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do when that happened.” 

Calling me had surely been part of his plan all along. It wasn’t the first time he’d ask for a favor. So long as I kept obliging it wouldn’t be the last.

It didn’t feel like I had much of a choice, though. I hung up, he called back. Changed my number, he found me. Didn’t matter if he yelled, cursed, begged or cried. It all ended the same way, with me feeling guilty as hell and bending to whatever his will was.

“You owe me, Gale,” he started when I’d stayed silent for too long. “When you think about it, you owe me. I’m your father. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even be around.”

My jaw clenched.

“Think of all the money I’d have then, huh? If I hadn’t had to buy you clothes and feed you all those years. Don’t you think you could help me out just once?”

Whatever got him off of the phone. Whatever was the least confrontational way I could slip out of this mess, fine. Whatever.

My hands were in fists now.

“I’ll mail it tomorrow.”

“No, no. Not the mail. Can’t risk it getting lost. Damn post office is unreliable as fuck. Just bring it here.”

“To Illinois?” It was a six hour trip there and back, when the hell did he expect me to find the time to do that? 

“Never mind. You’re doing me the favor. I can come to you.”

“No.” The words came out sharp and quick. I exhaled, controlling my next words. “It’s fine. I’ll come to Chicago.” 

“Great. Leave it in the mailbox.”

The phone disconnected on the other end and I stared at the blank screen for a minute before shoving it down into my pocket.

“You’re welcome, asshole.” 

* * *

My window of time to get to Illinois and back undetected was small.

Tomorrow was the first evening game of the season, which started at seven, but Coach would want us at the stadium warming up and going over plays by four. Without delays in traffic meant I would need to leave by seven in the morning. 

But there were always delays in Chicago. And I wasn’t looking to have to explain myself to Finnick and Peeta. So I left before the sun came up, around five, when both of them were still sleeping.

Driving down the dead highway in the early hours of morning felt like undoing all the steps I’d taken to put space between me and my past. It felt like running back. Suddenly, I was sixteen again, in the back of Hazelle’s car as she apologized for taking me back to him. 

“It’s not the same,” I mumbled to myself, desperate for the verbal reminder. I gripped and re-gripped the steering wheel and fought to not grind my teeth. I wasn’t going back to him. I wasn’t even going to see him so long as I played this right. Just drop the money and run.

Money I’ll never see again.

“Christ, I’m dumb.” I hated that he had the power to make me feel guilty enough to do something so dumb. If Coach knew that I was about to cross state lines on game day, he’d have my balls. 

Instinctively, my foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as I sped down the highway, more than ready to have the errand behind me. 

Pulling up to the old trailer park right outside of Chicago was surreal. It felt impossible that everything could look exactly the same and yet be so different. The untended paint on the side of the trailer was still peeling. Gravel driveway still riddled with stubborn weeds. Goosebumps still unconsciously worked their way up my arms just being there. Being so close. He was right inside, probably passed out with a bottle of beer and the television running.  _ So close. _

__ The memories came back in flashes, unwarranted.

Ones of me sitting out on the porch step in the cold of winter because I’d forgotten my house key and needed to learn a lesson in responsibility. Or pedaling down the road as fast as my bike would carry me when he was drunk and unreasonable. 

Not all bad, though. I caught my first toad in the creek behind the park. The kids on the street used to love organizing games of kick ball and hide and seek in the summer. I used to climb in the big tree out front of the house. Sit out there for hours and watch the sunset, just because it was something nice.

It’d also been the tree Dad made me pull a branch from so he could beat me to a pulp…

__ _ “Go get one of those branches. Not a little twig, but a real branch. I’m warning you if you come back with something pathetic, I’ll use the belt on you instead.”  _

I hadn’t come back with a pathetic one, but after he was done he’d used the belt too, anyways.

My back itched from the memory and a new bead of sweat ran down the side of my neck. Time for the trip down memory lane to be over. I needed to get the fuck out of there. 

I pulled open the mailbox and shoved the envelope of money inside before peeling away, not waiting to see if he’d come to find it or not. Not waiting for anything.

I didn’t feel like I could get a good breath until I’d crossed back over into Wisconsin. 

* * *

The team was already in the weight room warming up when I arrived. For a minute, I thought I was going to get an earful from Coach, but I hadn’t missed attendance so he must’ve just thought I was taking my time in the locker room. 

I swallowed the yawn threatening to escape and hoped the energy drink I’d chugged on the way home kicked in soon. After my rough start during pre-season I could afford anything less than perfection on the field. 

When warm-ups concluded and everyone started heading back to the locker room to get ready for the game, Thresh grabbed hold of my arm to get my attention.

“Bro, you mind doing me a favor?” He followed me down the hallway, past each crowded cubicle as I made my way over to my bench.

“Yes.”

“Come on, it’ll benefit you too.”

“Still, it sounds like it requires something from me, so my answer stands.” I whipped my shirt off and tossed it into the cubby with my name scripted above it. 

“What happened to your back?”

The old scars that had left angry pink streaks down my back tingled at the attention but I did my best to ignore it. Play it down.

“Nothing. Why are you still standing here? I said no.”

“Delly has this friend…” he continued, like I hadn’t just told him to get lost three different ways. When I cast him a look, he only snickered, sitting down on the bench next to me to pull his socks up over his calves. “Apparently she got out of something not too long ago and isn’t looking for anything too serious. Delly thinks you two could hit it off.”

“Because I can’t be serious?”

“We all know your M.O.” He smiled up at me before his voice turned sing-song like. “She’s  _ cute…” _

Weren’t they all?

The last thing I wanted was to be set up with one of Delly’s silly sorority sisters. She meant well, I knew that, but she was too romantic for her own good. Pure intentions or not, I’d seen her pave a way to hell before and wasn’t in the mood for being her guinea pig. 

“Like you have anything better to do on a Sunday, anyways.”

There was plenty I could do with my Sunday. It was the only day of the week I actually had off. There was school work to be caught up on, NFL to watch, a bed to be laid in.

But for some reason, it was ringing a bell in my mind. Like I’d forgotten something.

Sunday.

_ Sunday. _

__ Madge’s date with Cato.

The idiot had been bragging about in practice the other day, and the more graphic the conversation got, the more irritated I found myself getting. I glanced over to where he stood on the opposite side of the locker room, gelling his hair of all things. Like he wasn’t about to put a fucking helmet over the top of it. 

He’d mentioned the restaurant they’d be going to--some basic Italian place. A locale he’d brought dates to so often he might as well have his own personal table. 

“You’re right,” I muttered reluctantly to Thresh. “I don’t.” 

“Don’t think she’s much of a clinger, either.”

That I would judge for myself. 

I slipped a tank top on, followed by my pads and made sure everything fit tight before reaching for my jersey.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He slapped my shoulder before starting to walk away, and a force I wasn’t one hundred percent positive I was in control of possessed me to stop him.

“Hey, you got a place in mind?”

He blinked, surprised, and then shook his head.

“Nothing set in stone. I haven’t talked to Delly about it yet.” 

“I know one.”

He flashed me a smile before nodding his head in agreement and walking off for good, leaving me to wonder what the hell I’d just gotten myself into. 

There wasn’t time to focus on it as Coach ushered everyone out onto the field. Before I even made it to the tunnel I could hear the roar coming from the stadium.

Music to my ears.

+++

It was incredible how fickle some fans could be. One moment they’re cheering for you at deafening volumes, the next all you can hear are angry shouts and a chorus of  _ boos  _ echoing through the dome.

It probably wasn’t healthy, the way this sport could send my adrenaline through the roof in the best and worst ways. But, we persisted.

After two failed pass attempts thirty yards within the end zone, Finnick made the call to run the ball instead. It was a play we’d practiced before, one that involved faking the throw before handing the ball off to one of  the tight ends . Unlikely to result in a touchdown, but it might buy another first down.

The play was called, ball passed and when I heard Finnick’s commanding voice call the play into action, I ran down the field as practiced. I was past the twenty yard mark, could hear panting breaths of the player desperate to keep up with me trailing behind, but not long after the sharp blow of a whistle called the game into standstill and a flag was thrown. 

“Come on,” I huffed, catching my breath. The play had been a fairly simple one, I couldn’t imagine what went wrong to cause a flag. 

As I grew closer to the tightly packed group further up field though, it became more evident that something was wrong.

“What happened?” I asked as refs were pulling both our guys and the visiting team off each other--both sides spitting mad.

“Off sides, foul start,” Peeta filled me in, still panting. “Number seventy sacked Finnick. Think he’s hurt.”

Son of a bitch. 

Yeah, he was definitely hurt. His helmet was off, face scrunched up in pain as he grasped his knee and writhed on the field. Coach was out next, pushing everyone out of the way so he could get the medical staff in to look at him. Shit, really not good. If they pulled him from the game now, our chances of winning might as well be cut in half.

If he was out longer…

It wasn’t worth worrying over until the doctor got a good look at him. Things always looked bad on the field, when injuries were fresh and tensions were high. Once he got out of that gear, had some water and meds, it could be found that it was just a bruise.

“I can finish the game,” Finnick grunted, even as his teeth gnashed at the slightest movement of his leg.

“Don’t be a martyr. Get on the damn gurney and get your leg checked out. Honestly, what the hell is happening? Do you kids need more calcium in your diets? You’re dropping like flies!”

The ref made the announcement that Finnick would be pulled for the rest of the game. Cue another chorus of resounding boos. Poor rookie set to replace him had to be shitting himself right about now. Dude probably thought he wouldn’t see anything other than the bench all season with Odair on the field.

The injury set a horrible precedent for the rest of the game, though. The opposing team took advantage of our weakness and stole the win out from under us. 

And I thought the arena was difficult to deal with when we lost. Drunk fans screaming had nothin’ on Coach when he was pissed off.

* * *

I couldn’t remember the last time I wished for a weekend to be over, but by the time Sunday rolled around I was spent. My body ached because I was stubborn and skipped an ice bath after the game and my mind was racing with one hundred different thoughts. The last thing I felt like doing was following through on my decision to double with Thresh and Delly, but it was too late to take it back. 

Delly was beaming with excitement by the time the girls arrived at the restaurant, eager to introduce me to her friend.

Thresh had been right. She was hot. 

Almost perfectly so. Her long blonde hair was curled into ringlets that rested over her shoulders and big green eyes were silhouetted with smoky makeup that hinted at the expectation of more than just dinner tonight. 

When she leaned into the table to talk to me like we were sharing a secret, the plunging neckline of her top left little to the imagination for what was underneath it. 

A ten out of fucking ten. And all she wanted was a night out and sex? Too good to be true. Any normal night this would’ve been a win for the both of us. But I hadn’t been right in the head all week and I blamed Madge Undersee. 

There was no logical reason for me to show up at  _ Piccolo Italiano,  _ otherwise. 

“What do you suggest, Gale?” The blonde asked, batting her eyelashes at me from over the top of the menu. 

Looking it over, the restaurant name became more ironic. Nothing about the cuisine seemed authentic. Even me, a guy whose only experience outside of the Midwest were football fields in different states, could tell that.

“I want to get a picture of Thresh and I eating spaghetti  _ Lady and the Tramp  _ style,” Delly giggled, glancing to an unimpressed looking Thresh across from her. 

“You just had to pick a restaurant full of carbs, didn’t you?” My date teased flirtatiously, and I felt like a complete ass for forgetting her name.

Glitter? Shimmer? 

“Please, Glimmer. You can afford not to calorie count for one night,” Delly scoffed, and the small bout of praise seemed to please her friend as she tossed a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“You know this is a college town, right? Don’t think there’s a restaurant in the District that’s  _ carb free,”  _ I muttered, purposely layering butter onto the bread they left us before taking a large bite.

“Halloween is in a few weeks,” she shrugged. “I want my costume to fit. Do you want to know what it is?”

I didn’t give a fuck. 

“Sure.”

“A puppy dog.”

“Very original.”

“Well, not just any dog. She’s being Pluto,” Delly reiterated before taking a dainty sip of wine. “Our whole house is going as Disney characters and a few of us are coordinating as the Fab Five. Glimmer is being Pluto, I’m Donald, Katniss is Minnie, Clove is Mickey and Octavia is being Goofy.”

She said the other girls' names like I was supposed to have any clue who they were, but I smiled and nodded anyways, because she looked so damn excited. 

“Still think I would’ve made a better Cinderella.”

“The seniors claimed Princesses,” Delly explained before shrugging her shoulders. “I think it’ll be fun.”

While they continued back and forth over the fairness of their costume choice, I kept an eye peeled on the door, watching each person who passed through with severely lacking casualty.

When Madge walked in with Cato shortly behind, I felt myself instinctively sit up straighter.

I wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Stupider than showing up here in the first place, anyways. I just...wanted to keep an eye on things. As one coworker to another. One supposed friend to another. If all went well, Madge wouldn’t even notice I was there. The last thing I needed her teasing me about was being a stalker, but Jesus, did she need to pick the biggest douchebag on campus to have dinner with? 

The waiter led them to a table across the room from ours, far enough to put much needed distance between our tables but one that still afforded me a partial view from where I sat. 

She’d worn her hair down. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen it in anything other than a ponytail, but tonight it fell with half of it pulled back and the other half resting loosely down her back. Thick framed glasses were replaced with contacts and she was wearing lipstick. Nothing too attention grabbing, but her pert lips were more pink than usual.

And she’d done it all for Davidson.

Our waiter came back, effectively blocking my view and bringing me back to reality as everyone readied themselves to order.

“I’ll do a side salad with italian dressing, the eggplant parmesan--but can you hold the bread crumbs? And I’ll do a Vodka Lemonade.”

“There’s calories in that,” I said, making everyone from the waiter to Delly look at me like I was the biggest jerk on the planet. Glimmer for her part, looked mildly irritated.

“Just trying to help.”

“A water, please.”

Our order had barely been filled before my phone buzzed with a message from Delly. The only thing it read was my name with a period right after it.

**Me (7:45pm):** ?

_ Delly (7:45pm):  _ Be nice. Jesus.

**Me (7:46pm):** I am being nice!

_ Delly (7:47pm):  _ Heaven help your future wife if this is you being nice.

**Me (7:48pm):** Pump the breaks, Dell. The only thing I’m looking for is the next warm

I stopped typing before I could hit send when I glanced up and saw Madge frowning. Not in a thoughtful way, or as if her face was just resting but...truly frowning. Like she was upset. She shifted in her chair, pulling at her sweater uncomfortably.

“What’s so interesting?” Glimmer asked out loud, moving her head into my view with a tight smile.

“Nothing.” Something wasn’t right. “Hey, does that girl look upset to you?”

Glimmer blinked, confused, and then turned to look over the booth to where my eyes led. Her pert lips hardened into a straight line as she studied the pair across the restaurant in boredom.

“I don’t know.” She perked up, reaching across the table for my arm to steal the attention. “You know, I have to admit to you that I’m not really a football fan but I watched the game last night at Sae’s. Just to see you.”

“The game sucked last night,” I muttered, still focused on Madge. Her eyebrows were pinched, body language closed off. The normal larger than life personality she carried had all but withered from her.

“You did good, though.”

“You’re a girl, use your female intuition.” I tried again with Glimmer. Delly was never going to set me up with one of her friends again after tonight. “Do you think there’s a problem over there?”

Glimmer’s thinly veiled annoyance cracked as she gave way to a heavy sigh and twisted to take another look. Even Thresh looked irritated by me, but I didn’t really care. I told him I wasn’t up for this, anyways. 

“I don’t know,” she insisted firmly again before giving a shrug. “Maybe. Do we know her or something?”

“I don’t remember,” Delly mused, taking a look for herself. Apparently, we were past the point of being stealthy. “Maybe she rushed for Theta?”

Doubtful.

“Maybe,” Glimmer agreed, absently before taking a sip of her drink. “I’m not sure why Cato Davidson would choose to go out with her, of all people. Seems like a stick in the mud to me. Unless he’s into that whole uptight librarian feel.” 

Madge got up from their table and wove through the restaurant towards the back, where the bathrooms were. I was standing up before I even realized what I was doing.

“Gale? Is there a problem?” Sweet Delly, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, looked like she wanted to decapitate my head.

“Worst date ever,” I heard Glimmer grumble beneath her breath.

“We both knew what this was,” I replied smoothly. A free dinner for her and a chance to be a complete freak and spy on Madge for me. I set my card down on the table, because I wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, and then walked in the same direction Madge had gone.

I just hoped whatever intuition that was building in my chest and telling me to find her was right and I didn’t come off as a pathetic creep.

She was already in the bathroom by the time I got over there. A single stall with a lock on the door. I knocked and heard her quiet answer from the other side, followed by a sniffle.

“Just a minute.”

Was she crying? Seriously? What the fuck did Davidson do?

“Madge? It’s Gale. Open the door.” I fought to keep my voice even, not wanting to upset her even more, and pressed my face against the cool wood. This was stupid. So fucking stupid. I’d never felt the inclination to step in this way before but with this girl it felt like a reflex.

“Gale?” There was confusion from her end, which was to be expected. Then hesitation. I could picture her on the other side trying to sort through the puzzle of why I would be there in her brain. How I could possibly know enough to be standing there begging her to open the door.

“I need a minute.”

“What did he do?” I asked. 

When the door cracked open, Madge’s eyes were sparkling with unshed tears and her lower lip quivered as she forced a brave smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. What’s wrong?”

“I’m overreacting. And what are you even doing here?”

“I can explain.”

“Actually, I don’t care,” she laughed, breathlessly. “I think I just want to go home.” 

“Fine. Did you drive?”

She pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear and shook her head.

“I’ll bring you home. Where’s your bag?”

“At the table. I don’t…”

“I’ll get it.” Then I’d offer to let Delly’s friend put one more drink on my card for dipping out early. I only felt a little bad. The whole thing was fake, anyways.

Madge nodded silently and placed no objection to me going to get her things. She waited by the stalls, sweater completely buttoned up and face more pale than normal. 

Cato seemed surprised to see me when I showed up at the table and grabbed Madge’s purse.

“Date’s cut short, buddy.”

He looked at the half eaten food on Madge’s plate and shook his head in disappointment.

“Guess that means I’m not getting any  _ dessert, _ huh?” By the way his card was already sticking out of the bill, it was obvious he wasn’t talking about food. 

My hands tightened on the back of the chair as something began to stir in the pit of my stomach. He sat unfazed, laughing even, like he was half expecting me to join in with his joke.

Meanwhile Madge was too upset to even come get her things. I knew I shouldn’t bother getting into it with him, that I needed to just go find her and leave, but I couldn’t help myself.

“What did you say to her?” 

“Huh?”

“Tonight. You did talk, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Well, she did most of it at first,” he snorted. “Talking about some holiday this weekend.”

“Rosh Hashanah.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You know she was Jewish? Can’t tell by looking at her. Blonde hair, blue eyes...genes are weird.”

The level of control I fought to maintain should’ve earned me an award.

“I told her our grandparents probably knew each other,” he chuckled, reaching across the table to smack my arm, like we were buddies. I waited with a frown, not following.

“Cause I’m German,” he explained in my silence. “I bet my Grandpa is rolling in his grave right now.”

“You said that to her?” 

“It's just a joke, dude.” He shrugged, defensive. “She knew.”

“Right. You’re a regular clown.” 

God only knew what other comments he’d made to make her so visibly uncomfortable. If there was one thing the dude didn’t know how to take, it was a cue. 

“Just stay away from her, got it?”

“Is there a problem, here?” he asked, rising to his feet and scanning the room for Madge. His eyes narrowed on me, like he was just piecing together my presence there and he took a step forward, trying to intimidate me.

Bad idea. My hands clenched into fists at my side and I fought to gain control over my breathing. I shouldn’t be this mad, anyways. Mad--yeah. But not like this. Not seeing white hot rage. Not so close to doing something I know I’ll only regret. 

_ “Stay away.” _

“Not really your call to make, man. If I want to fuck her--”

I reacted on instinct, powerless to stop it. Not having full control of what was happening my fist wound back before connecting with the center of his jaw. I punched him with enough force that my hand stung, and Cato’s head reared back in shock. Around us, the neighboring tables gasped in shock at the outburst.

“Are we clear now?” 

“You little bitch,” Cato sneered, taking another step closer before being restrained by wait staff.

Madge appeared, grasping my arm, pulling me away from him too.

“Stop. Don’t do this. Please.”

“Sir, you need to leave,” one of the staff said, looking at me. “Now.”

“Gladly.” I spun around, leading Madge out the door and tried to control the fire that was still building inside of me. I’d text Thresh for my card later. Whatever. I didn’t care.

“Gale, what the hell!” Madge cried once the night air hit us.

“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t. But it seemed like the right thing to say to her. “He’s a dick, Madge.”

“I know,” she said, followed by a short adrenaline-crazed laugh. “I know. God, I wanted to punch him too.”

“It felt really good,” I admitted, only making her laugh more.

“You could’ve gotten hurt. He’s a big guy.”

“I can handle myself. Come on, let’s get you home.”

She reached out to grab my arm, and I didn’t stop her when she looped hers through it.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Coach was furious when he found out about the restaurant altercation. Cato and I were pulled into his office quicker than I could blink, and I had to admit it was satisfying to see the budding purple bruise his face. 

I understood Coach’s frustration, though. The team was falling apart before our eyes and with so much of the season left, it didn’t bode well for the outcome. Finnick had been officially benched for the season with an ACL tear that required surgery and extensive physical therapy. Without him we were already screwed. Last thing Coach needed was for his players to be getting into fist fights.

He wasn’t interested in hearing the story, though. Never one for excuses. It didn’t matter anyways, the league along with everyone else would go ballistic if he benched us right on the coattails of announcing Finnick’s injury. We were given a week’s suspension and weight room clean up. Not nearly enough. 

“I can’t believe you punched him,” Madge said again, shaking her head in disbelief. 

It was late, going on eleven o’clock at night. Madge had been stressing about some  _ very important, life altering  _ test she had tomorrow all night at the deli, so after our shift ended I invited her over to help quiz her. 

That was two hours ago, and we’d barely made it through a third of her flashcards. Not helped by the fact that every three or four cards she got distracted and changed the subject.

“I mean you  _ actually _ punched him.”

“What is the extracellular matrix?” I asked, trying my best to keep her on task.

She laid on my bed, feet dangling off the side, and stared up at the ceiling.

“The non-cellular substances surrounding the cell.”

“Good.” I placed it face up on my desk. “The types of junctions?”

“Tight, adherens, desmosomes, herhidemososomes, and gap,” she ticked off without missing a beat.

“I don’t know why you’re freaking out. You obviously know this material.”

“I know it now because I’m in your room going over my flashcards,” she said, peering at me upside down with a smile. “I’ll be useless and nervous tomorrow morning. Completely different.”

She yawned and with that sign of weakness I stood up from my chair.

“Coffee break?”

“Yes!” she agreed, readily. “I’m desperate for caffeine. This will be perfect, I need a second wind.”

“Okay. Be right back then.” I shook my head, unable to help but smile at her incessant talking. The last thing she needed was a cup of coffee, but if it would help…

Finnick and Peeta were already in their rooms for the night. In all honesty, I hadn’t seen much of Finnick at all in the past week since his injury. I couldn’t say I blamed him for hiding out, though. If I’d been benched for the season for something so unavoidable, I wouldn’t leave my room either.

Worse for Finnick, too. He was already a junior. Scouts for the NFL looked at the whole team, no matter what year you were, but the fact that he was so close to graduation and losing an entire year of resume building had to be crushing.

When the coffee was finished, I balanced both cups down the hallway towards my room with a few packets of sugar hanging out of my mouth.

“Take this,” I muttered through clenched teeth, but as soon as I rounded the corner, I noticed her curled up in a ball, asleep. Glasses on, not even facing the right way on the bed, it was obvious that it had been an accident, but she looked so peaceful I warred with myself on whether to wake her up.

It was already closing in on midnight. Late to be driving home when she was already so clearly exhausted. And it wasn’t like I’d never slept on the floor before.

I took one of the spare blankets I kept in my closet for winter out and draped it over the top of her before carefully extracting her glasses. She rolled over, but never opened her eyes, settling back into the bed almost instantly.

I debated going to sleep on the couch, but ultimately opted for the floor at the end of the bed. In case she woke up confused, I didn’t want her to have to go looking for me. Once a spot had been makeshift, I turned out the light, painfully aware of the fact that Madge Undersee snores.

+++

A sharp intake of breath woke me in an instant.

Madge gasped, and in a matter of moments her blanket was thrown on top of me followed quickly by her foot as she actually  _ stepped _ on me in her hasty rise out of bed.

“Ow, Jesus. What the fuck?” I grunted, bending at the stomach.

“Sorry! Oh god, are you okay?”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

“What am I still doing here?” she asked, panicked. “What time is it? Did I miss my exam? Shoot!”

“Madge,” I interrupted with a groan, rolling over onto my side. “It’s six in the morning, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Oh,” she sighed in relief and I had just closed my eyes again when she started to laugh. “I was really scared for a minute. Did you sleep on the floor all night?”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep here. Darius must be worried.”

I’d forgotten about her roommate. He was probably bugging. Guess it wasn’t the best idea for me to let her stay sleeping, afterall. 

I sat up, fully awake now and muttered about going to take a shower.

“Do you think...would it be okay if I took one too? I don’t think I’ll have time to go back to the apartment and get ready. Bad enough I’ll have to wear the same pants. Thank god I still have a shirt in my car,” she said, pulling at the Hoffman’s deli shirt she’d fallen asleep in last night.

The idea of Madge Undersee using my shower was an appealing one, even if it didn’t involve me in it with her. I nodded, letting her go first and went out in the kitchen to find something to eat. 

Both Peeta and Finnick were already awake and exchanged knowing glances as I entered the room.

“What?” 

“Will your company be joining us for breakfast?” Finnick questioned.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

It was obvious they didn’t believe me. Not that I could blame them. I’d never believe me either if I said a girl slept in my bed all night and I took the floor.

“Be cool, okay? She’s taking a shower now, but she’s embarrassed. Just don’t make a big deal.”

“Roger,” Finnick said with a fake salute before grabbing his crutches and crossing over to the fridge for orange juice. Peeta was already scrambling up more than the usual amount of eggs and added two more pieces of bacon to the frying pan.

When Madge rounded the corner, hair hanging damply down her shoulders and smelling like me, Finnick and Peeta did little to hide their surprise.

Idiots.

She flushed, fiddling with her glasses a little before mumbling a quiet good morning.

“Morning,” Finnick, Peeta and I said in almost unison before Peeta held up the pan with eggs inside.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks. Finnick, what happened?”

“ACL tear,” he grumbled with irritation. 

“Ouch,” Madge sympathized, no longer shy as she walked over to Finnick and bent down to examine his propped up leg. “Did you hear it pop? I’ve been told the sound is audible.”

Peeta winced, shaking his head at the thought but Finnick only shrugged.

“Too loud to hear anything. I sure as hell felt it, though.”

She tentatively touched the bandaged knee and Finnick smirked at me from over the top of her head.

“Interesting. I can definitely see that it’s swollen still. I’m sorry, it must be painful.”

“Tell me about it. I’m out for the rest of the season. Need surgery in a few weeks.”

“Did you have an MRI done?”

“Yep.”

“Ugh, I would love to see it.” She was completely nerding out, the way her eyes brightened at the mention of medicine and the way she kept adjusting her glasses to inspect his knee. “You know it’s pretty uncommon actually to need surgery from an ACL injury. Most of the time physical therapy is enough.”

“Lucky me.”

“Sorry,” she winced with an inappropriate chuckle. “Let me know when you have your surgery. If there’s anything I can do…”

Finnick smiled and nodded before taking a bite of his eggs.

“Thanks, Madge.”

Madge was definitely a morning person. A little bit of food and coffee only enhanced that quality, making her chat easily right up until it was time for her to leave. 

“Good luck on your exam,” Peeta said as she headed for the door.

“Thanks!”

“You’ll kill it,” I promised, and she turned around to give me a warm smile from over her shoulder.

“Thanks, Gale. And thanks for everything last night. It was really needed.”

I could feel Peeta and Finnick’s eyes boring into the back of my head, but refused to face them until after Madge had left.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Finnick reminded me with a shrug. “But I’m glad whatever it was that she  _ really needed _ you were able to provide.”

__ I wondered how long I’d be suspended for if I grabbed one of his crutches and beat him with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so sorry it's been so long. Thanks for all your patience and well wishes! I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully there won't be as long as a wait next time. I hope you're all staying healthy and having a great start to the fall season! xoxo.


	7. October 11-20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Trigger Warning: Brief descriptions of under age sexual assault.**

* * *

_I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone._

_Devil's roll the dice, angels roll their eyes,  
_

_and if I bleed you'll be the last to know._

-Taylor Swift

* * *

**Me (1:45pm):** I’m bored. 

_Madge (1:45pm):_ Hello to you,too.

**Me (1:46pm):** Really, really bored.

_Madge (1:47pm):_ I get it, you only text me when you’re *really, really* bored. Thanks. 

**Me (1:47pm):** You’re usually good for a story or something.

_Madge (1:50pm):_ Are you in class? Because if so, pay attention!!

I wasn’t in class, but I might as well have been. Study group could be just as dull some of the time, especially when everyone was stressed out about the midterms that were just around the corner. 

“Does anyone have the lecture notes from week three? They’re missing from my binder and I can’t remember,” Lavinia said, flipping through her stack of papers madly.

“Yeah, I’ve got those somewhere…”

**Me (1:55pm):** Study group. You know that meme of the dog sitting in a burning room smiling? That’s me. 

_ Madge (2:00pm):  _ Oh boy, lol. Where are you?

I dropped my location in the library and a few minutes later Madge replied saying she was just down the street and headed in that direction.

**Me (2:05pm):** I’m almost done. 

_ Madge (2:06pm):  _ Is that a hint for me to come rescue you?

**Me (2:06pm):** Please? 

A few minutes later, she walked up the stairs to the second floor of the library, where rooms for study groups were located and gave me a hard look through the glass. 

“Alright guys, that’s it for me,” I said, packing my things up. I didn’t miss the way Lavinia and Pollux’s eyes flitted to Madge before turning back to the table. “See you guys later.”

Madge was still staring inside the room when I walked out, a contemplative look on her face.

“Ready?”

“I know him. I didn’t know you did.”

I glanced over to where she was staring and noted the way she tipped her head up in acknowledgement when Thom stood up. 

“Who, Thom?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “He works at a bar, right? Down at the District.”

“That’s him,” I confirmed as we turned away to walk out of the library.

The weather was turning quickly, always unpredictable this time of year. Temperatures had cooled off significantly over the past couple of weeks and most of the trees were shades of gold and red. Madge pulled a hat on over her head as we stepped outside, boots clicking against the cement sidewalk.

“Darius drags me there practically every Thursday night, claiming it’s for the student specials. But it hasn’t escaped my notice that Thom is almost always working. Darius thinks he’s cute.”

“He’s a good guy.” 

“Hmm,” she mused, pursing her lips. I knew that look. That  _ hmm. _ It never meant anything good.

“What?”

“Well, I was just thinking...okay, this might sound a little crazy but stick with me.”

“Not a ringing endorsement.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could set them up? It could be arranged perfectly naturally, us being the mutual friends and all.”

“They’re adults. If they want to go on a date, they can arrange it.”

“I know, I know. But sometimes people just need a little push. Darius can be so stubborn sometimes and Thom seems shy. Is he shy?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. He was on the quieter side. Part of why I liked him.

“But they’re always looking at each other and smiling from across the bar. We could all meet up at Sae’s for a burger or something. Totally casual, and then just let the sparks fly.”

“Hold up,  _ we?” _

“Well we’d have to go, too,” she said, looking at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

_ “Would we?” _

“How else are they going to be introduced? Darius will not go on a blind date and we shouldn’t do that to sweet Thom, either.”

Sweet Thom. Like she’d had a single conversation with him before.

“I think everyone would feel more comfortable if the first date was more of a group setting.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, there. They haven’t even agreed to this yet.”

“They will.”

“You meddle in people’s lives too much,” I mumbled, keeping in step with her as we made our way closer to the Union. God, I was starving and burger talk was only making it worse. Definitely needed to pick something up before practice tonight. 

“You call it meddling, I call it helping. And trust me, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Famous last words.”

“Stop being so pessimistic and tell me what day works for you.”

It was one of the few weekends where we had no game scheduled, just an afternoon practice on Saturday to fix mistakes and tighten up our plays--something we desperately needed. I was only on the schedule for Hoffman’s on Friday. 

“I’m free Saturday, I guess.”

“Great. I’ll check with Darius and you ask Thom, then?”

If I kept giving her excuses she would just keep throwing out dates until I finally agreed to one, so I might as well just say yes and get it over with sooner than later.

“Fine. If this is a disaster, it’s on you.”

“Don’t worry. I have a sixth sense when it comes to people. I can read them like a book.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’ll be fun. I have to go. Drama in lab today. We’re dissecting a cat.”

“I would’ve thought you’d love that,” I called out as she began to cross the street, headed in the opposite direction. 

“I  _ have _ a cat. It’s like dissecting Garfield!” 

I chuckled, shaking my head as she waved one more time over her shoulder and disappeared, leaving me to wonder how the hell I’d been suckered into two double dates in one week.

* * *

Family dinner was still going strong at the apartment, mostly thanks to Peeta working around everyone's busy schedule to make sure it always happened. 

“I grew up with brothers and a persistent mother,” he told me the time he’d rescheduled after I thought I’d escaped. “I know the importance of Family Dinners.”

He might’ve been onto something. There hadn’t been any more blow-ups over drinks and sometimes Finnick and I even hung out together when Peeta wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure if either of us had admitted that to him yet. 

We ate in this week, mostly for my benefit. Grilled chicken breasts with veggies and wild rice wasn’t the most exciting meal, but there was a weigh-in tomorrow morning before practice and Coach would be more pissed at me than he already was if he found out I’d been binging on carbs the night before. Finnick was on a pretty strict diet during the season too, but since he’d been taken off for injury he’d lost all motivation to follow it. Peeta was allowed to eat whatever the hell he wanted. There was something to be said for being one of the linemen, that was for sure.

“How are things between you and Davidson?” Finnick asked, accepting the plate of food made for him with the ease of someone who had been milking their injury for the past several weeks.

“The same.” I shrugged. “I want to punch him in the face every time I see him.” 

“Well, yeah, so do I but I don’t.”

“It’s different.” I shook my head. “He’s not just annoying, he’s a shitty fucking person.”

Three weeks had passed since Madge and Cato’s date, and she still hadn’t exactly told me all he said. It didn’t matter, I caught the gist, and I wasn’t going to make her repeat things she didn’t want to, but the idea that he’d thought it was okay and had basically gotten away with it still didn’t sit well with me.

The worst people on the planet got away with absolute murder.

“Dude definitely needs practice on his lady skills,” Finnick mumbled before tipping back his beer.

“Yeah, well, he’s done practicing on Madge.”

“I heard Delly is still ticked at you for ditching your date,” Peeta chimed in.

“She’ll get over it. I’m sure my date already did.” The only thing that might’ve been bruised was her ego, she didn’t strike me as the type of girl who was used to being told no often, but she’d bounce back. Lie and say the date was fine but I wasn’t her type. Or fabricate a story about how shitty I was without having to embarrass herself. I didn’t really care. 

“Next time one of you can double with Delly’s sorority friends.” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Finnick teased before cueing up the movie we’d all agreed on watching. 

Thom finally got back to me about Madge's double date plan,  the apprehension of being set up clear even through text.

_ Thom (7:56pm):  _ If you’re sure about this.

I wasn’t, but Madge had enough confidence for the both of us and what’s done was already done.

**Me (8:00pm):** Positive. 

* * *

In the spirit of giving credit where it was due, I had to hand it to Madge that Sae’s was a good place for the double. Everyone at Panem knew about Sae’s. It was a right of passage of sorts, essential dining for every student on campus.

The menu was basic pub food, burgers and wings with fifteen different types of beer on tap behind the bar. The televisions were always turned to a PU event and there were games like darts and pool in the back. 

If this worked out between Darius and Thom--and I wasn’t convinced yet that it would--it would truly be a case of opposites attract. Where Thom was tall and burly, unshaven and wearing a simple plaid button down with jeans, Darius was perfectly put together in a sweater that looked like it cost more than my monthly rent and gold painted nails. His jeans were cuffed at the ankle, showing off a pair of designer boots to complete the ensemble. Madge followed closely behind him, her signature ponytail whipping from side to side with each step. 

“Sorry we’re late,” she apologized, slipping into the booth after Darius. “Parking was a nightmare.”

“We would’ve just walked if it wasn’t for the rain,” Darius chimed in with a roll of his eyes before extending a hand out towards Thom. “Hi, I’m Darius.”

“Thom.”

They exchanged pleasantries before the table went quiet and everyone turned down to their menu for something to keep busy with.

“What year are you in, Thom?” Madge asked, never too shy to keep conversation flowing.

“I’m a Sophomore.”

“I guess I should’ve known, since you share classes with Gale. It’s a pretty interesting major, statistics. What made you decide to go into it?”

“I’m good with numbers.”

Darius and I exchanged a painful look. Between Madge jumping in to ask all the good questions and Thom’s to-the-point answers, the evening was off to a rocky start. 

_ What to do to change it… _

“I’ve always been good with numbers too. My mom used to say that if I hadn’t gone into pre-med, I would’ve done something with numbers. Probably not statistics, though. Maybe accounting. But you know, the idea of sitting in a cubicle all day long just  _ typing and typing  _ seems tortuous--”

“Madge,” I interrupted, giving her a hard look that went straight over her head. She stared back at me with wide, questioning eyes and I forced a smile onto my lips. “Let’s go play a game of pool.”

“Oh, okay. Sure. Darius, just order me a soda when the waiter comes back? And the loaded fries.”

“Will do,” he said dutifully as she bent down to grab her purse. Darius looked at me from over the top of her and mouthed a quick  _ thank you _ which I acknowledged with a tip of my head before ushering the chatterbox away.

“I’m sorry, are you on a date with Thom or is Darius?” I muttered under my breath, once we were out of earshot from the table.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she groaned. “I can’t shut up when I’m nervous--”

“You don’t say…”

“--And I’m just so nervous for them!”

It was almost cute the way she cared so much about her friends. I knew she just wanted Darius to be happy, but the only way he was going to figure out if it was a connection or not as if the two of them had time to get to know each other. So we’d introduced them, good. If things went south, we’d be around to make the fallout less awkward. But I knew a thing or two about being a wing-man, and part of that was knowing when to take a step back and let the eagle fly.

“So, do you really want to play pool or were you just trying to get me away from the table?” she asked, folding her arms beneath her chest self-consciously.

“You know how to play?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” I warned her with a smirk. “The competitive side of me won’t allow it.”

“Oh, please. I don’t need any favors, Mr. Man but thanks anyways. Just refresh me on the rules.”

They were pretty simple, and once I started explaining Madge was nodding along as recollection came back to her.

“What are the stakes?” she questioned, chalking up her cue.

“Stakes? You don’t even want a practice round first?”

“You’re pretty confident, but that doesn’t scare me.”

“It should. Have you already forgotten our video game match?”

I tightened the rack, rolling it back and forth along the table a few times before centering the balls and pulling the frame up. . 

“I keep telling you, I let you win. I knew your fragile male ego couldn’t handle it if I didn’t.”

“Well, so there’s no doubt, give me all you got, Undersee. Loser buys the first round.”

“First round of what?” she scoffed. “You have a fake ID I don’t know about?” 

I did, but I hadn’t tried to use it in a few years. Not that she needed to know any of that.

“First round of anything that isn’t water,” I replied back.

“Fair enough.” She bent forward at the waist, eyeing the stack of balls. “When do you turn twenty-one, anyways?” 

“March. You?”

“July.” 

She pulled her cue back a few times before finally striking, and as the balls skid across the table, Madge stalked around it like an animal watching its prey. Two balls sunk. 

“Are you hustling me?” I asked, her chuckle only adding to my suspicion. 

“Guess I’m a natural.” She struck again, sinking the 1 ball before smiling wider at my obvious dismay. “Truth or dare, Gale?”

The question had basically come to be one we asked each other when there was a specific question on our mind. Why we felt the need to say it, like it somehow added gravity to the conversation, I wasn’t sure. But I perked up at it, nonetheless. 

“Truth.”

“How’d you become so competitive?”

“I’m an athlete,” I said, dismissively. “It’s the name of the game.”

She gave an exaggerated yawn, cupping a hand over her mouth for effect. 

“Boring. That’s the cop out answer.”

Finally, she missed and it was my turn. 

“I don’t know. Attention? I wasn’t the best at school stuff, but gym was my strong suit. I liked to show off once I figured that out. Kind of stuck.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t go to your elementary school,” she noted, propped up on the edge of the table as I lined up my shot. “You were probably the kid who would’ve chucked a dodge ball at my face and broken my glasses.”

“It’s not a win if you have to play dirty to get it.”

She chuckled a little as I took my shot and sunk the 12-ball. The easiest one on the table. 

“I guess it paid off. Look at you now. Have to be competitive to be an athlete.” 

“Could say the same about you. Didn’t you say only three percent of pre-med students make it? Sounds pretty competitive.”

“One percent, actually, but we’re not discussing that tonight. Not unless you want me to break out in hives.” 

“Sorry,” I  laughed, and she brushed me off easily.

“I’m impressed you even remembered that.”

I’m not sure why I did. Maybe it was the way she’d been so freaked out about it that made it stick out in my mind. She was going to give herself a hernia before she ever made it into school at this rate.

“Hey, check it out,” I said, changing the subject. I nodded over to the booth where Darius and Thom sat, laughing easily with one another.

“Good eye contact, body posture is positive...oh! Thom just mirrored Darius.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for social cues. You can fake laugh at anyone and smile politely, but the body doesn’t lie. I think they’re having a good time. Should we get our own table or something? I don’t want to interrupt.”

“We’ll follow their lead. You’re up, Undersee.”

The little sneak was definitely better at pool than she originally let on. I gave her a run for her money, but in the end she still beat me, and made no small sign of showing it. I had no choice but to laugh at the way she danced around, pool stick in hand before leaning forward with a smug expression.

“You owe me a drink.”

“Fine. What’ll it be?”

“Hmm,” she mused as we made our way over to the bar to look over the menus. She picked some pink thing, mostly I think because it was ridiculous and huge and had glowing ice cubes inside of it. 

“Happy?”

“Extremely. How’s our couple doing?”

“They seem just fine. I have to hand it to you, seems like you were onto something.” 

“I told you, sixth sense.”

“If you’re so good at match making, how come you’re still single?” I challenged, half-heartedly blocking her attempts to hit me when her small fists flew.

“I’m too busy for a boyfriend.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t agree? Isn’t that the same reason you blew Cressida off last summer?”

“I blew Cressida off because we were on different pages,” I corrected. 

“Right. About relationships.”

“It’s not that I’m necessarily opposed to the idea,” I shrugged. “With the right person. I don’t know, a lot of the girls I meet are only interested in fucking because of my jersey and not looking for much else. Comes with the territory, I guess. How the hell did we get on this subject?”

“Aw,” Madge sighed, sipping her drink from the corner of her mouth. “Gale Hawthorne has feelings buried deep down inside of there. Who would’ve known?”

The girl had a superpower; the ability to make people talk without even realizing it. I’d never opened up to anyone the way I did with her, and I had no clue why, but it was infuriating. 

“Just...drink your juice.” 

* * *

The next time I had class with Thom, he was sitting in the lecture hall grinning down at his phone wider than I’d ever seen him smile. Fingers typing furiously. When I dropped my stuff down beside him, he startled, as if forgetting he was in lecture, and peered over at me guilty before setting the device down on the table. 

“How’s it going?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m texting Darius,” he admitted, like I was going to ask. It was clear he was embarrassed though, and judging by how private the guy was about his relationships, I could understand feeling insecure about a new romance . 

“So you two hit it off then?”

“I guess you could say that,” he smiled. “I guess thank you’s are in order.” 

“Thank Madge. She’s annoyingly good at pulling off this kind of stuff.” 

“It seemed like you two had a good time also. Was it your first date, too?”

“We weren’t on a date,” I snickered, shaking my head. “Just the wing men.”

“Right.” The way he said the word made it clear he didn’t believe me. I gave him a hard look, which only made his smile broaden.

“I might be stupid when it comes to relationships, but I’m not completely lost. If you guys aren’t dating, you should.”

“We’re friends,” I said, as if the words explained everything. Thom just gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. 

“Seems like a good foundation to me.”

“One date and look at you. Love’s biggest advocate,” I teased, making him blush despite his constant smile.

“Life’s short. Don’t want to miss out on something good when it comes around, right?”

He turned towards the front of the lecture hall without waiting for reply, and the question lingered in the air, taking up all of the space in my brain as our professor began his discourse. 

+++

Thom’s ‘words of wisdom’ stuck with me throughout the rest of the week. Not made any better by the fact that Madge had been texting me almost daily to update me on the new couples status.

_ Madge (6:45am):  _ I feel like cupid. 

**Me (7:20am):** sleeping.

She’d invited herself over to play the newest update of Final Tribute, and I hated how I felt fucking nervous about her arrival. Since when was I nervous around a girl? Let alone Madge Undersee? All the pep talks in the world hadn’t stopped me from adding another layer of deodorant on, though.

When she got to the apartment, I was relieved that things felt nature. The same, even. Nothing had changed despite Thom’s inquisitive questions and Madge’s insistence that we doubled. It wasn’t a real date, and we weren’t anything more than friends.

She made herself comfortable on the couch, falling down with her feet tucked up beneath her. We drank soda and ate potato chips as we played, and at one point she got so into it that she knocked the entire bag over with a victory pump of her fist. Little brat couldn’t stop laughing when I started talking about ants.

There was nothing romantic about it. Nothing to suggest anything different was in the air. It wasn’t like we were sharing stolen glances or accidental touches. 

No heat.

Nope. 

Not at all.

When Madge won, ever the graceful loser, she did a victory lap around the room, causing so much chaos Peeta came up to see what was going on.

“Sorry,” she said, face flushed as she pushed her glasses up higher on her face. “I just…”

“She beat me,” I muttered and Peeta’s face broke out into a grin before he raised a hand to give Madge a celebratory high-five.

“Definitely cause for celebration.”

“I’m tired. I wasn’t on my game.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” she insisted, poking me on the nose with her pointer finger before pausing the game when Peeta asked if she wanted to taste-test something. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.” I spread out on the sofa with my hands behind my back and closed my eyes for a few minutes until she returned.

+++

_ Screaming. _

__ Not normal cries. Not the sound she made when she was hungry or needed a diaper change. But screaming.

Posy was hurt. 

I was running, but my feet weren’t moving. It didn’t matter how much I tried, I was stuck in the same place. An endless loop. Unable to reach my little sister who was in trouble and needed me.

_ “Gale!”  _ It was Vick’s voice, urgent. Scared. Something was happening and I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t protect them. I--

My eyes flew open but for a long moment my body stayed frozen. I looked around, taking in my surroundings the way I always needed to after one of those dreams. Back at Panem. Back in my apartment. 

“You know, it’s pretty low, even for you, to fall asleep just to get out of losing a game,” Madge teased, lips turned up in the corners even as her eyes never left the television screen.

Shit, Madge was still there. A cold sweat made the back of my hair damp and when I sat up my neck muscles were tense.

“You okay?” she asked, pausing the game so she could look at me free from distraction. “You sounded like you were having a bad dream. I wanted to wake you, but I read once that it can actually be worse to wake someone up from a nightmare. Only makes them more disoriented. Pretty interesting, huh?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. 

“What did you dream about?”

“The uh, Packers lost the Superbowl.”

“Figures,” she chuckled, but something in the way she kept eyeing me made me think she didn’t quite buy the story but rather was just willing to let it go. “You need some water. I can get you some.”

“I’m fine, really. Come on let’s play another round. I don’t want to be accused of cheating.”

“Actually, I should head out. I still have some work to finish up and clinical starts soon. Besides, you still look minutes away from passing back out again. You must need the sleep.”

I was exhausted, she was right. But I’d fight the urge to fall back asleep, at least for a little while in hopes of ridding myself of any more dreams.

“Good luck this weekend,” she said, setting the remote control back on its charging port. 

“Thanks. Game will be on cable, I think.”

“Is that you saying you want me to watch?” she asked, lips turned up in the corners slyly. 

“I’m just offering information up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied before throwing a wave over her shoulder and descending down to the main floor of the apartment.

* * *

There was a different kind of energy in the air at away games. Without a crowd full of people wearing your colors and screaming your name, there was less pressure. Being the underdog was kind of fun, actually.

But, it wasn’t like we had nothing to prove on the field. With Finnick out for the season, all eyes were on us to see how the team would fair without him as our leader. The rookie filling his shoes had been puking all morning and Finnick for his part did well at being supportive.

When there was nothing else left to do but go out and play, we did, with the kind of reckless abandonment that would’ve pissed Coach off if we’d lost. But coming back to the locker room with a win, it was nothing but congratulatory pats on the backs and smiles.

The hotel lobby was filled with fans, both from Minnesota and ones who had traveled from Panem to show support, waiting for our arrival to start the party. The lounge downstairs would be swamped until early hours of morning, most likely.

Peeta and I went up to our room to freshen up before heading down, and I waited until after I’d showered and gotten dressed to check my phone.

Immediately, I wished I hadn’t at all.

Three missed calls. One voicemail. It was a gamble really for what he could’ve wanted. Money? To play nice and congratulate me on the win? I hesitated before pressing the button which started the message. 

“You stupid son of a bitch.” He was drunk. Or high off of something. Maybe both. “How dumb can you be? One job and you manage to fuck it up. Who can’t catch a ball?”

I sat in silence, listening to the berating message that was nearly five minutes in length.

_ You would’ve been better off as a stain on my couch, kid. _

__ _ I should’ve let your mother swallow you. _

__ _ You’re pathetic. _

__ All because I dropped one ball during the game. The one which we had  _ won  _ in the end, anyways. I deleted the message and fought the urge to throw the device straight into the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asked, coming out from the bathroom. I must’ve looked murderous, given the expression on his face. 

I jumped up, and shoved my phone down into my back pocket.

“Nothing. Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

+++

_ You’re pathetic. _

__ I took another shot, the liquid burning down my throat a welcomed distraction from my restless mind. 

No one was carding down at the bar, too much chaos. Between all the football players and groupies who had come to celebrate the game, there was no keeping track of who was buying and who was sharing so it was easy enough to slip liquor without getting into trouble.

I chased the shot with a large sip of beer and brought the cup down hard onto the table, feeling the effects. I hated being drunk. Hated being anything that resembled my father, but damnit the thoughts wouldn’t go away. Not without the help of alcohol.

_ I should’ve let your mother swallow you. _

__ Fuck, who says that? 

“What’re you drinking?” 

The girl saddled up beside me was wearing a Nightlock’s jersey that had been cut to show off her stomach, and clearly nothing else beneath it. When my eyes roamed, her smile broadened and she set her drink down on the bar beside me.

“Nothing fun. Beer.”

“You’re right, that’s not fun. Do you want to have fun?”

Did I? 

The only thing I wanted to do was go back to my hotel room.

Alone.

I finished the rest of my beer in a swig and set the empty mug down on the table before getting up.

“No.”

The further I got from the lobby, the quieter the noise level was and I felt relief when the elevator doors opened and I stumbled in alone. It was never the best idea to be alone with my thoughts when I was like this, I knew, but the longer the night stretched the more irritation I felt building inside of me. I knew I was one wrong comment away from swinging punches, and the last thing I needed was to be kicked off of the team. 

It didn’t make the silent hotel room any less jarring, though. 

I pulled my phone out, and the first message there was from Madge, congratulating me on the game.

I knew calling her was a bad idea. The clock on the table next to me read that it was close to midnight, and knowing Madge she was probably already asleep. Not to mention, I had no idea what I’d say once she picked up the phone. It wasn’t my typical style. Usually when I was mad and drunk the best way to forget everything was to find the closest warm body and fuck. But I didn’t feel like having sex, I felt like talking.

The best talker I knew was back in Wisconsin.

I fell back onto the plush hotel bed and stared at the message for a hard moment before giving in and making the call. It rang four times, so long that I almost hung up. Right before I could press the button, Madge’s soft and confused voice sounded through the speaker.

“Gale?”

“Hey.”

“Hi…?” she laughed.

“What’s up?”

“Did you mean to call me?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay.” She still seemed confused. I was too. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“Alright. Your timing is good, actually. I’m on my way home from the hospital. Usually I call Darius or my mom or something while I’m walking to the apartment, which I’m sure sounds dumb but it’s so dark out here and they worry.”

“It’s not dumb, it’s smart. People are assholes.”

“I would’ve thought you’d be out. Aren’t you guys allowed to have any fun when you go away?”

I smirked into the phone.

“Sometimes, yeah. Had too much fun already. I think I’m drunk.”

“I’ll pretend not to be jealous.”

“You can join me.”

“Drinking alone is sad. Even if you are on the phone,” she quipped. “So, you really just called to say hi?” 

I could hear her keys jiggling as she opened the front door to her apartment. 

“Because you sound like something is bothering you.”

“What do I have to be bothering me? We won the game.”

“I know. I guess that’s just another reason why I’m confused that you’re on the phone with me instead of out celebrating with your friends.”

I didn’t want to talk about why I was sitting in an empty hotel room alone instead of out. That would just lead to an unwarranted psychoanalyzation by Dr. Undersee and I definitely wasn’t in the mood for that. 

I changed the subject. 

“You were at the clinic tonight?” 

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice giving away to enthusiasm. “It was an exciting night. Well, maybe not for the patients, but for me. One guy came in with an arm so broken the bone was sticking out of his flesh.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It was awesome.”

“Does anything scare you?” I asked, laughing. 

“Sure,” she replied, without missing a beat. “Lot’s of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like...not living up to expectations. Not graduating, not finding a job. Not finding love...”

“That’s deep.”

“Sometimes the most terrifying things are also the most mundane.”

“Yeah,” I admitted into the phone quietly. “Yeah. I don’t think you need to be worried about that stuff right now, though. It’s too far in the future.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You’re too tense,” I muttered. “When’s the last time you got laid?” 

“Excuse me?” she blanched, so appalled by the question that I actually laughed.

“I’m serious. A few months ago? A year? You need to relax and I’m telling you it’s a fool proof way.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” she hesitated, long enough that I knew exactly what it meant. No explanation necessary.

“Sorry, it’s not my business,” I muttered. “I’m just drunk. It’s making me say whatever comes to mind.”

“I’ve never had sex.”

“Really, it’s not my…” I paused as her words sunk in. I knew it was what she was implying, but to hear her actually admit it gave me hesitation. “Never?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I am shocked.” She was beautiful. There was no way she was a virgin by choice. “Do you just not believe in sex before marriage?”

“No, it’s not that. Trust me, I had no plans of being a twenty year old virgin. It’s just circumstantial.”

“Well, the guys on campus are bigger idiots than I thought.”

“It has nothing to do with them.” Her tone was sharper, more on edge, and I wondered if I had hit a sore spot before she sighed with an apology. 

“If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it between the two of us? What am I saying? You’re drunk. This is stupid.”

“Madge,” I interrupted, sitting up on the bed. “I promise.”

She inhaled deeply and the line went silent for so long I figured she wasn’t going to continue with the story. As I fought for something else to say, something to change the subject to, she started to talk.

“I did some dumb things when I was younger...”

We all did. It wouldn’t be a part of growing up otherwise, but she sounded so grave, so serious that I didn’t bother to interrupt and say so.

“I was kind of a late bloomer. I held onto my baby face forever and admittedly did not have any sort of sense of style. I’m only saying this because the summer I turned fifteen everything just sort of clicked. I started finding myself, I hit puberty...I got my first boyfriend. It was really cool, don’t get me wrong. It was like I finally felt, I don’t know, accepted. Like finally I was the thing to be desired.”

She inhaled deeply through the phone, nerves betraying her. 

“His name was Jacob and he was so cute,” she went on, talking wildly about what a  _ good guy _ he was. The way someone built something up before dropping a massive  _ but.  _

“Except,” she breathed. “He wanted to take things further than I did. I got drunk at a party this one time and he tried to take advantage. Used my state to convince me to have sex with him.” 

My body tensed, and I felt my hands instinctively clench as she continued. 

“I didn’t, though, and he got angry. Threatened to break up with me, which just felt like the absolute end of the world at the time. So, I decided to give him something else in hopes that it would satisfy him until I was ready.”

“Everything but?” I guessed. 

“No,” she said quietly. “I sent pictures of myself. Sometimes with just underwear on...sometimes completely naked. And, because I was young and stupid and thought I was going to marry him, I didn’t crop my face out of any of them. After a few months, he broke up with me anyways, saying it wasn’t enough and I got mad--and drunk again--and left him a voicemail saying...I don’t even remember what I said, but it must have been bad because he decided to retaliate by sending the photos around to everyone. I mean  _ everyone. _ My parents saw them, Gale. And I think before the weekend was over every school in the city had also.”

“Madge,” I started, heart rate increasing, anger beginning to boil. “You don’t...you can stop if you want..”

“I’m scared to google my name because I’m horrified those pictures are going to be what comes up. It was the absolute lowest point in my life. My grades slipped, I didn’t feel worthy of going to the Synagogue. I lost twenty pounds because I wasn’t even eating. I thought about--well, I was in a dark place.” 

It was hard to imagine sweet, sunny Madge dealing with anything like that. Here I was teasing her about being perfect and rich and these were the skeletons she kept hidden in her closet? 

I knew a thing or two about hiding behind a facade, though. 

“How’d you get out?” I whispered. “Of the dark place?”

“Hope. My mom taught me how to. She reminded me that it wasn’t the defining moment in my life, even though it felt like it. That there was a future where I would be more than the fifteen year old girl from New York who had nudes leaked. I learned how to hold onto that and channel it, turn it into something I could learn to be proud of, and my parents could be proud of too.”

“What about him?” I asked. “What happened?”

“He got in trouble. Expelled from the school, brought up on charges. It doesn’t matter if you’re also a minor, distributing sexual images of a minor is an offense. He could’ve been convicted as a child molester had my parents pushed it, but I begged them not to. One mistake at sixteen shouldn’t dictate the rest of your life. Just like I didn’t want mine to.”

“It’s good he was brought to some justice.”

“Yeah, it is. It didn’t make it any easier at the time, though.” she sighed deeply, almost relieved. “I haven’t told anyone that. Not since moving to Wisconsin. It...feels good to have.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised.

“I know.” I could practically hear her smile through the phone. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I’m not stupid, Gale. I know you didn’t call me at midnight for fun.”

I hesitated for a long moment, staring up at the design in the ceiling above me as Madge breathed through the other end of the line quietly.

“Do you ever feel like you’re running the fastest you can, but it’s not enough? Like you’re on a treadmill or something. Never getting anywhere. And I mean, you’re giving it your all, you’re sweating like crazy, you’re...exhausted. But none of it matters, because you haven’t moved a single inch?”

“Do you always speak in riddles?” she asked and when I snorted out a quiet laugh, she added, “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know. But you might feel better once you talk about it. You might not be so angry.”

“One of these days,” I sighed. “One of these days I’m going to open up to you, Undersee. And you’re going to regret having ever asked.”

“I look forward to that, Hawthorne.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy, happy Friday friends! Any weekend plans? I hope you're all staying healthy (mentally, physically and emotionally...) and enjoyed the chapter!


	8. October 27-30

* * *

_You're not looking for a savior, you know I'm no good for you._

-Sun Airway

* * *

****“Finnick, sweetheart, are you sure there’s nothing else we can do for you?”

Finnick held two fingers up to his head, mimicking a gun and pulled the trigger before rolling his head back in a dramatic show of death. His mother, who was waist-deep into the fridge rearranging things, turned around to catch the tail end of his theatrics and frowned with disapproval.

_“Finnick Odair.”_

“Sorry,” he laughed. “No, you guys have been great but really, it’s all good. I’m good.” 

Four days post-op and the apartment had been flooded with Odairs since. It was terrifying how many of them there were. Sisters, nephews and nieces, and grandparents alike had been revolving through the place on practically a twenty-four hour basis to make sure Finnick had absolutely everything he could possibly need. I wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush for them to be gone. That kind of service would definitely be disappearing with them.

Even now, he sat propped up on the couch with his leg reclined beneath three plush pillows and a drink on either side of him. One sister sat beside him, running her fingers through his hair while the other helped their mother find a spot for yet another casserole dish that had come from the Odairs’ home. The third...I wasn’t sure where she was. Or his dad. It was hard to keep track of them all. Probably doing his laundry and making his bed or something ridiculous.

“Alright,” Mrs. Odair said, hesitancy clear in her tone. “Well call if you need anything. It’s no trouble at all, that’s the beauty of being just thirty minutes away from campus.”

“Beauty isn’t the word that comes to mind for me,” he muttered under his breath, making the sister sitting next to him laugh. 

“I made a chart for your pain pills. Which ones to take and at what times,” the other one said, holding the paper up proudly. “I’ll just hang it on the fridge.”

“Okay,” Finnick replied, having given up trying to argue with his family. He kept looking over to Peeta and I, as if to apologize, like either of us were bothered or were judging him for his family’s obvious love. Peeta’s own family wasn’t far off from Finnick’s, the only difference was they lived in Virginia instead of around the block. I had no doubt in my mind that if Mrs. Mellark lived in Wisconsin, there would be many drop-ins, judging by the exuberant amount of care packages she sent and phone calls she made. 

And just because I didn’t have parents like theirs didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate good ones when I saw them. Something about the Odairs’ presence, as loud and chaotic as it was, was comforting. Like, being home for the holidays in those cheesy Christmas movies. Their dysfunction was the kind that was entirely functional. Lovable. He could roll his eyes and pretend to blow his brains out all he wanted, it was painfully obvious how much he loved them all, too.

“Alright, let’s get going. He needs his rest,” Mr. Odair said, coming from down the hallway. “You boys keep an eye on him, yeah?”

“Will do,” I replied, earning a salute. 

Kisses and hugs were exchanged like they wouldn’t stop in again tomorrow or the next day, and then the house was eerily quiet with their absence. Finnick let out a sigh of relief and reached across the couch for his crutches. 

“Finally,” he groaned, standing up. “My ass was going numb. Every time I try to stand up someone pushes me back down onto this damn couch. I’m going nuts.”

“Where are you going?” Peeta asked as Finnick started to hobble away.

“I have to take a leak, want to come?” Finnick called, disappearing down the hallway. 

My phone pinged with a new message from Hazelle, a photo of Rory and Posy in matching Nightlocks jerseys with grinning smiles.

 _Hazelle (1:08pm):_ Kids can’t wait for the game tomorrow. We need to get Vick a new jersey...they’ve all outgrown theirs. Rory’s in Vick’s old one, Posy in Rory’s, lol.

I smiled at the message and saved the photo. Yeah, I guess it would be about time for replacements. I’d gotten each of them a jersey last year as a freshman, when I’d first arrived and those kids grew like weeds. 

**Me (1:10pm):** I’ll take care of it. Tell the kids they look great. I’ll see you all tomorrow.

I couldn’t help being excited for it. I hadn’t seen any of them since the summer, right before the semester began, and the pangs of missing them only continued to grow. Talking on the phone and getting photo updates were great, but every time Posy told me she wanted a hug, or Rory told me he slept in my bed because he missed me, it took everything for me not to get into my car and drive back to Waukesha without another thought.

 _It was for them,_ I would actively need to remind myself. _You left so you could give them everything someday._

“Hey, did you see the latest projections from the _CF Live_ account?” Peeta asked quietly from the other side of the couch, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Yep. Total bullshit.”

After Finnick’s injury, the college football association dropped their predictions for the Nightlocks finishing second in our division to seventh. The talk had been bombarding my Instagram feed all day. 

“One little meniscus tear and people are acting like he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Finnick asked, coming back from the bathroom.

“No one.”

He didn’t bother to press it, but turned into the kitchen and pulled the medicine chart off from the fridge to inspect it before tossing it to the side.

“That’s going to hurt her feelings,” Peeta chided. “You know she’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“I’m not taking all that shit. Next thing you know I’ll be addicted to it and then what? It’s a headache I don’t need.”

“You sure? Because you seem a little cranky.”

I couldn’t help but snort at the irritated expression Finnick cast our way.

“Yeah,” I added. “Maybe a little oxy would help.”

“I’m _fine._ Jesus, I thought my mother left.”

“Oh, stop whining. Cut me a piece of lasagna if you’re heating it up,” I said. “I’d offer to do it myself but I know how you feel about special treatment.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

As he busied himself with the microwave, I turned back to Peeta and our conversation about the team's predictions. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I understand the frustration of being down a QB mid-season, it fucking sucks but give us some credit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “The new kid isn’t bad, either. I ran some drills with him yesterday, he’s picking things up pretty quickly.” 

“What are you two whispering about out there?” 

“Which one of your sisters is the hottest,” I replied back instantly, almost making him drop the ceramic plate he was handling in the process. Peeta and I were nearly doubled over with laughter.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re an ass, Hawthorne. You’d be _lucky_ to be with one of those women."

“Trust me, I have all the _Odair_ I can handle.” 

* * *

It didn’t happen often, that I had people in the stands who loved me. Not the screaming fans or the scouts who were hungry for budding talent, but people who were truly there to see me just because they loved me. Neither Hazelle or I had the extra money for four football tickets frequently, and stupidly enough there wasn’t any sort of family discount for players on seats. I’d tried to snag tickets for earlier in the season, before it got too cold, but wasn’t able to get anything sooner than the weekend before Halloween. 

This year, that meant snow.

Not too much, by the time kick-off started, it had stopped, but the chill in the air remained, making each released breath icy and the crowd morph into a sea of blankets. I was thankful for the adrenaline coursing through me, that and the body suit beneath my jersey. They worked in harmony to keep me warm enough on the field until I could get beneath my own blanket off on the side lines. 

Poor Pos. I could picture her huddled against Hazelle for warmth, teeth chattering as she stood without complaint, a mixture of joy and misery to be there. I’d owe the kids hot chocolate after the game finished.

I played better when my family was there. Even show-boated a little when I scored a touchdown, just because I knew it would make them laugh. We won the game--a much needed victory after our stint of losses after Finnick’s injury and I was feeling good, really good, by the time I rushed out from the locker room to meet them.

Dozens of people were crowded at the lip of the stadium, waiting for photos and autographs that I usually took the time to sign. Today though, my focus was entirely on finding the kids and Hazelle. I scanned the crowd for them, and when Posy screamed my name in her high-pitched, piercing voice, my head whipped over in their direction and I jumped the gait to get to them quicker.

Posy got to me first, wrapping her arms around my neck like a lifeline and refusing to let go even as I tried to put her back on the ground. Rory attached himself to my middle, squeezing tightly in excitement as Vick and Hazelle watched from a foot or so away, smiling.

It’d been too long. Too damn long. One hug from them and I was seriously weighing my options of just leaving and going back to Milwaukee with them. Get a job and move back into my old room at Hazelle’s.

_Cause that’s what she needs. Another mouth to feed._

The thought was a fleeting one, and I tried to push them away along with those of the inevitable departure later would bring when they headed home. There was time to be miserable about that later. We still had the entire day to spend together.

“You guys bring Halloween costumes?”

“I did, but Rory and Vick said they're too old for trick-or-treating.”

“What?” I asked, looking down at Rory to confirm. He shrugged his small shoulders silently but smiled when I ruffled his hair.

“Too old for free candy? Don’t try to grow up too fast, bud. It’s no fun.” 

“Well, I guess I could go,” Rory said, changing his tune at the mention of candy. “I could be a football player.” He pointed to the jersey he wore, Vick’s old one, and I shot him a thumbs up.

“Works for me. Okay, let’s get you guys warmed up. It's freezing out here.”

Back at the apartment, Peeta showed Posy and Rory how to make ‘hot chocolate bombs’, which were just as they sounded. Essentially, he created a hardened chocolate shell before sealing more chocolate and marshmallows inside of it. The whole thing melted when placed into a mug of hot milk, which fascinated and completely excited both the kids. 

Vick didn’t mind hanging up in the loft with Finnick and I. We watched the recap of the game before letting him turn on whatever he wanted.

“How’s everything going at home?”

“Fine,” he answered, shortly.

“School?”

“It’s school.” When I shot him a look he added, “Fine. I’m not failing anything.”

“That’s the spirit,” Finnick snickered and I smacked him on the head behind Vick.

“That’s awesome, bud. You like your teachers? They’re cool?”

“Yeah, they’re okay, I guess. Mr. Heavensbee is pretty funny. He’s my algebra teacher. He gives out full sized candy bars to anyone who gets above a ninety on our tests.”

“Wish my professors did that,” Finnick mumbled, and Vick laughed.

“Does he have Twix?” I asked and Vick nodded. “Then I know you’ve got to have an A in that class at least.”

“It’s my highest grade.”

“Keep it up, dude. How’s...your after school activity going?” I asked, unsure of how much he wanted to broach the subject in front of Finnick.

“You mean therapy?” he deadpanned, apparently not minding. “It’s fine. Makes Grandma happy.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the subject seemingly making him uncomfortable. He shifted on the couch a moment before pushing his hair out from his eyes. “Grandma said we could go visit Mom before Thanksgiving.”

That was unexpected. I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion as I tried to process his words. Since when did Hazelle take the kids to the prison? I knew she called to check in with them on occasion--mostly Christmas or Easter--but the idea of them all sitting in a room together. Her slipping back into their lives, didn’t sit well with me.

“When did she say that?”

“Few weeks ago,” Vick said. 

“That’s cool.” I was trying to keep it casual. Not show my true feelings until I had gauged his. “Are you excited about that?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Last time we got to pass through a bunch of metal detectors and these German Shepards sniffed us, it was cool.”

Finnick, who I forgot was still sitting there, shot me a puzzled look that I pretended not to see. 

Before I could reply, Posy came running up the stairs dressed in some sort of rainbow unicorn costume and did a graceful spin for our inspection. I would need to talk with Hazelle later about the whole thing. 

“I’m ready for trick or treating, Galey!”

“Have fun, Galey,” Finnick winked, propping his legs up on the table. “I think you look great, Posy. Who are you supposed to be?”

She went into a ten-minute spiel about how she was dressed as her favorite television show character, doing the voices and dance moves to go along with them until I practically had to drag her away with the promise of candy.

“Bye Finny! I hope your leg feels better soon.”

“Me too, Pos. Have fun.”

Out on the District, the world was in full Halloween mode. Decorative decals clung to each window display and pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns sat out on the curbside.

“Hey, it looks like you.” Rory pointed out one of the scarecrows that were fastened to each lamp posts we passed, each wearing a different outfit to represent the University of Panem. There were scarecrows in scrubs with stethoscopes around their necks, others in business outfits. One for each sorority and fraternity on campus, and for each sports team, like the one Rory pointed to dressed in a football uniform and helmet. The number represented on his jersey was Finnick’s, of course.

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“I think your head is a little wider though,” Hazelle teased, giving me a soft jab in the side with her elbow. 

“Who makes them?” Posy asked as she skipped a few beats ahead of us on the pavement.

“I don’t know, students, I guess.”

“Did you make one?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m pretty busy, don’t you think? Between school work and football. And looking after wild kids like you,” I joked, picking her up and throwing her over one of my arms.

“Don’t drop my candy!” she squealed in between giggling fits.

“Ooh, if she drops it can I keep it?” Rory asked, hopefully, only causing Posy more distress.

“Vick, help me!”

“Sorry,” he shrugged casually, unable to help his own smile from forming at her incessant laughter. “This is what happens when you have three brothers.”

  
+++

The kids made out pretty good by the end of the afternoon. I was surprised by the amount of storefronts participating in the trick-or-treating, standing outside with candy and goodies for kids of all ages including t-shirts and small prizes. Even the tattoo shop was giving away temporary tattoos. 

Posy won a stuffed bear ‘bobbing for apples’--which she was disappointed to find out was done with a net instead of actually dunking your head in to fish one out. Little freak. 

She and Rory spread their bounty out along the carpet in the living room, organizing their candy and trading for each other's goodies.

“You bring me back anything good?” Finnick asked, hobbling in. He’d lost the crutches in place of a brace and had a wobbly, sort of hop step now that looked like he might fall over any moment.

“Here you go,” Posy said genuinely, handing him a container of floss.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Galey, will you help me with my tattoo? I want this one.” She held up the glittery pumpkin with a silly face.

“Sure.”

“After that, you need to start cleaning up Posy. We have to head home soon.”

“No,” she groaned, following me heavily into the kitchen. I picked her up and placed her on the counter before wetting a cloth and taking the back of her palm in my hand.

“Can’t we spend the night with you?” she asked, voice entirely too sad as she studied the application of her pumpkin. 

“Not this time,” I replied back lowly. “But, I’ll be seeing you again soon. It’s almost time for school break.”

She sighed.

“I miss you so much, Galey.”

“I know. I miss you too. But, you need to be good for Grandma, okay? No pouting in the car. She drove a long way to bring you today.”

“Okay.”

I gave her forehead a kiss, brushing back some unruly hair before pulling the sticker free from her hand and revealing the design. 

“Here, you can have the rest of these. I don’t want them.” She handed me four more temporary tattoos, like I had anything to do with them either, but I accepted them with a smile before placing them on the counter. 

“You can have my raisins, too.”

“Thanks, Pos. You’re so generous.” 

She leaned up and gave my nose a kiss before flitting back into the living room to show off her new tattoo to Peeta and Finnick.

* * *

When Madge and I started carpooling together to Hoffman’s deli, it was only supposed to be a one time thing while her car was in the shop. That was a few weeks ago and now it just felt stupid to take two cars when we only lived a few blocks away from each other, anyways. 

Madge fell into the car; her normal, chipper self and tossed her backpack onto the ground heavily.

“Jesus, what’s in there? Bricks?”

“Might as well be,” she snickered. “Textbooks. I won’t lie and say I’m not hoping for a slow night, tonight. I need to study.”

Judging by the fact that most evenings were slow after the dinner rush, I didn’t think she’d have too much of an issue getting her homework done. I could get orders ready for tomorrow and sweep up myself. Really having two people there was a formality. 

“Big test?” I asked, pulling out onto the main road.

“Isn’t there always? Congrats on the win, by the way.” I’d forgotten that we hadn’t seen each other since before our last game.

“You watched?”

Her cheeks darkened a little at the accusation and she pressed a piece of her hair back behind her ears. She was wearing it down, held back from her eyes with a headband. Not something she did often, but it looked nice.

“It was on in the waiting room. At the hospital.”

“Uh huh, sure,” I teased, just to get under her skin. “You were probably watching it in your living room.”

“Was not.” 

“Bedroom then.”

“Definitely not,” she snorted and I raised an eyebrow.

“Definitely not? You said that with such disgust.”

She laughed nervously.

“You don’t want me in your bedroom, Undersee?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She flushed further, only adding to my amusement because it wasn’t often Madge was flustered. “I mean, I’m not saying I _do_ just that--”

“I’m messing with you.”

“I don’t have a television in my room,” she huffed. “Studies have shown that they can lead to insomnia and people sleep better without one in their bedrooms, so I don’t have one.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“I’m full of useless facts,” she admitted, bashfully.

“It’s part of your charm.” I winked and turned up the radio for the rest of our drive to the deli.

  
  


Madge did this funny thing when she was studying, where she’d mumble to herself out loud before flipping the card around to read the answer. When she got it right, a smile would curve up on her lips, and she’d place it off to the side. If it was wrong, her eyebrows furrowed, and to the back of the pile it went.

“You know, I think I read a study of my own this one time,” I called out to her from the kitchen.

“Oh?” she asked, distracted.

“Yeah. That if you study too much it actually has the opposite effect.”

She laughed a little before setting the flashcards down and walking up to the counter.

“One day when I’m a physician and I’ve been practicing for like, twenty years so that all of this seems second nature, I’m going to look back at this and laugh. It all seems so hard right now.”

“That’s kind of the point though, isn’t it? So every average Joe doesn’t start operating on people? I mean, you wouldn’t want someone like me cutting into you, would you?”

“You’re not an average Joe,” she muttered with a disapproving look.

“You get what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Take a break. You know that stuff.”

“I know. I need a distraction, otherwise I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

I had an idea, but it needed to wait until after we left the deli and got back to Panem.

“Help me clean up so we can get out of here. I have something to show you.”

She frowned a little, confused, but agreed readily and started wiping down the counters. We were able to leave a good twenty minutes early with everything finished, and as we were driving back to campus, Madge’s curiosity got the best of her.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I love surprises, don’t get me wrong, but can’t I have a hint?”

“Here’s a hint: bring your jacket.”

She sighed and leaned back into her seat, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. Her confusion only grew when we pulled into the parking lot of the stadium and I put the car into park.

“Come on.”

“Uh, what are we doing?”

I peered back into the car with my hands on the roof. 

“Distracting you.”

She followed behind me as I weaved through the main building and used my student ID to access the locker rooms which had direct access onto the field. With only the stadium lights on to illuminate the space, the rest of it was darker. So different without the rumble of noise and chaos that usually came with game day. 

Madge ventured out a few more steps, until she was almost directly in the middle of the field.

“So, this is where all the action happens?” she asked, head tilted up as she spun around to admire it fully. I watched her, arms folded over my chest, interested to see things from her perspective. 

“This is it.” 

“We’re not going to get in trouble for being here, are we?” she asked, suddenly tensing.

“Who knows,” I shrugged. “I’ve never done this.”

She groaned, torn, but relaxed some when I took a step closer and tossed her the football I’d snagged inside the locker room. She caught it with a smug smile before passing it between her hands. 

“It’s pretty incredible,” she confessed. “I can’t believe all these seats actually fill up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, squinting to see up all the way to the nose bleeds and finding it insane that people paid premium cash for such crappy seats. “Looks bigger when it's empty like this.” 

“And that doesn’t make you nervous at all?” 

“I don’t usually pay too much attention. Otherwise, I’d probably shit myself,” I admitted, which made her laugh, a free sound that echoed through the empty field. “But, I guess it’s sort of like you at the hospital. You just go into the zone.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, still feeling the ball. “So...what do you want to do now?” 

“Your call. You’re the one who needed a distraction.”

She mulled the possibilities over for a moment, lips pursing to the side as she thought before she pushed her glasses up and smiled wickedly.

“Truth or dare?” 

Sensing her playful mood and knowing that look often meant she had an idea, I decided to humor her. 

“Dare.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she grinned. “I dare you to...catch me!” 

She took off running down the field before the words had barely left her lips. Faster than I expected her to be, her slender legs carried her swiftly downfield with the ball tucked lazily in one arm. 

Her performance was impressive, that much I could admit. But she forgot that I was a wide receiver. Catching things was in my job description. 

She made the fatal mistake of looking over her shoulder just as she reached the twenty yard mark, and when she saw how close I was to her, let out a high-pitched squeal and dropped the ball.

“Undersee!” I called out, disappointed, as I ran up to the discarded ball and scooped it up. “You let go of the ball!” 

“It was an accident!” She was running and laughing at the same time, making her voice a chaotic mess of enthusiasm and exhaustion. I took the ball nearly all the way to the opposite end zone, only slowing down slightly as I approached it. Without warning, her slight weight slammed into the back of me, legs wrapped around my middle and arms practically suffocating me as they slid around my neck in a vain attempt to grab the ball back.

“Flag,” I choked out, even as we both couldn’t stop laughing. I made it to the end zone with her on my back and spun her around in a quick circle to celebrate. She pinched her body closer to mine and cried out, right into my ear as we spun before she dropped down and grabbed hold of the ball I’d spiked into the ground.

“I said catch _me,_ not the ball,” she panted.

“Technicality.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing your victory dance? I think it went something like this.” She made a dramatic show of dancing around with the ball, twisting her knees in and out and moving her shoulders in rhythm. 

“You need more hip.”

She wiggled her hips, making me laugh as I folded my arms across my middle.

“You really were watching, huh? What were you, camped out in the waiting room?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed, stepping closer. Without warning, she lunged forward with a fake-out to the right before spinning past me and heading back up the field. Jesus, she was like the energizer bunny. 

“I have an actual game this weekend!” I called out as she continued. “Shouldn’t I be saving my energy for that?”

“Don’t be a weeny!”

Little fucking brat. 

I started forward, picking up my pace and making up for the lost ground she’d covered with her tricky maneuver and my bitching. She was ready for me this time, and more than speed she had slipperiness on her side, and managed to slip out of my hold twice before I grabbed hold of her middle. 

I picked her up in one of my arms and she curled her legs up protectively around the ball. Long blonde hair smacking me in the face as her head tilted back. She smelled so good and that laugh was fucking infectious. I had everyone's voices in my head, teasing and hinting at Madge and I being more. My stubborn refusal to believe it, but standing there on the football field...fuck, I could see it.

And it scared the hell out of me.

“Caught you,” I breathed against her and her small hands tightened around my forearm. 

“Yeah, I guess you did. I know when to be a humble loser.”

“So what do I win?”

She twisted around to face me as I finally set her down.

“There’s no _winning_ things,” she argued, raising an eyebrow. “I dared you. Game over.”

She fell into the grass, sprawled out in the end zone beneath the painted _Nightlocks_ logo. I laid down next to her, continuing to press the subject. 

“I think I should win something. I was pretty impressive.”

“Look at all the stars,” Madge said, pointing up past the uncovered dome to where the sky was lit up with thousands of sparkling lights. “I’m surprised you can see so many. I would’ve thought the light pollution would make it difficult.” 

“Yeah. Guess I never really noticed.”

“Growing up, I could rarely see the stars where I lived,” she whispered. “It was one of the things that kind of amazed me when I moved out here.”

“What else did?”

“That the school mascot wasn’t a cow.”

“Cheap shot.”

She giggled quietly. 

“That you all really are obsessed with cheese.”

“Cheese is fantastic.”

“I don’t disagree. It also surprised me how beautiful it was. I didn’t really know much about Wisconsin. I didn’t expect all the scenery. The mountains, the lakes. It’s not too far from home.”

“It’s not so bad. But, I’ve never been to New York so, I might be bias.”

“You should sometime.” She was still staring up at the sky as she talked, hair creating a halo around her face. “It’s wonderful.”

“Well, I have a tour guide if I ever do.”

Finally she turned to face me, just a few inches away and her lips turned up into a smile.

“Sure do.”

We stared at each other for a paused moment, tension palpable before she sat up and raked a finger through her hair to rid it of the grass.

“Don’t think I forgot about my win.”

“Trust me, I don’t think you ever forget a win,” she teased with a roll of her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re competitive?”

“Many times.”

“Good. Okay, fine. What’s my punishment?”

“You have to…” I trailed off, thinking.

“Scream at the top of my lungs? Eat something nasty?” she guessed.

“I’m not letting you off that easily,” I tisked, shaking my head. Then, the idea struck. “I think...you need a tattoo.”

Her face visibly paled under the stadium lights. 

“A _tattoo?”_

“Yep. So you never forget that I beat you.” 

“I can’t get a tattoo,” she chuckled, already shaking her head. “My parents will kill me.”

“You’re twenty years old,” I argued back, reveling in her seriousness. “You don’t need to ask permission, you know.”

“Well, yeah but…” she took my hand when I extended it, helping her onto her feet. “Gale, I can’t get a tattoo.”

“Oh, come on, _you weeny,_ ” I taunted, heading for the exit of the field. “It’ll be a small one.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Let’s go,” I called out from in front of her. “Shop closes at midnight, I think.” 

We got into my car, and Madge’s silence was uncharacteristic as I started down the road towards the District, near the tattoo shop I’d passed last weekend with Posy. When we pulled up in front of it, Madge gave me a nervous look.

“You aren’t serious, are you?”

“Deadly.”

She inhaled deeply and shut her eyes, doing that thing she did when she was studying and needed to concentrate. She nodded a little to herself before turning back to me, bravely. 

“...You said it’ll be small, right?” she winced, and I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh. Her small fist rammed into my arm, which only made me laugh harder even as she insisted it wasn’t funny.

“Watch out,” I told her as I reached over her seat between her legs to the glove box and opened it. Inside where the leftover washable tattoos Posy hadn’t taken and I fanned them out for Madge to inspect.

“Alright, do you want a pumpkin, a flower or a moon?”

She sat in silence, blinking for a moment.

“What is this?”

“Come on, you didn’t think I was taking you to get a real tattoo did you?”

“You’re a jerk,” she laughed, taking the temporaries from my hands to get a closer look. 

“It’s too easy.”

She picked the crescent moon, which seemed appropriate, and handed it over to me, as if I were the professional.

“Where do you want it?” I asked and a mischievous glaze settled over Madge’s eyes.

“Well, it needs to be somewhere no one will find it,” she said quietly and suddenly I was very aware that we were in a dark car completely alone.

“I think it’ll wash off before your parents see you,” I tried to joke, but my voice came out too rough.

“Never can be too careful. Besides, I have clinical tomorrow,” she countered before unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Okay…” Fuck, why was my voice so hoarse? “Maybe your ankle?”

“I was thinking…” she trailed off, tilting her head to the side. She brushed a thick lock of hair behind her ear before pointing to the small area right behind the lobe. “Here?” 

There was something inexplicably erotic about the area. So innocent. Just a fucking earlobe, it wasn’t like she whipped her boob out, but my throat tightened as I stared at the small patch of flesh. 

“Sure. You’ll need to take your glasses off, though.”

She removed them slowly, allowing them to sit in her lap and then turned back to look at me beneath thick eyelashes. Her lips twisted up into a small smile before she faced forward again, regifting me access to her ear. I peeled the sticker back and used a little of the water from my bottle in the cup holder to wet a paper towel. Madge kept a finger right over the spot she wanted it and inhaled when my fingers brushed against hers, replacing them with the tattoo.

“I’ll need to hold pressure,” I said lowly, thumb accidentally brushing her ear. I could feel goosebumps erupt over her skin, down her neck. We were both so quiet, neither daring to speak until I pulled the plastic back and revealed a perfect crescent moon.

“How’s it look?” she asked quietly and I swallowed, expelling thoughts of kissing it from my mind.

“Nice. It’s...it’s good.”

“Can I see?”

I unlocked my phone and Madge skirted all of her hair off to the side, arching her neck further to give me a good line of sight. She smiled at the photo before slipping her glasses back on.

“I’m really walking on the wild side now, huh?”

“Baby steps,” I teased, which made her chuckle before her phone started to vibrate with a call.

“It’s Darius,” she told me quietly before picking up. Their quiet conversation was short-lived, with Madge mumbling a couple _mhm’s_ before turning to glance over at me.

“Shut up,” she hissed lowly before laughing. “Okay, yes. See you soon. _Bye Darius.”_

With a roll of her eyes she set the phone down and offered me a tentative smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I should ah, probably get going, though.”

“Right.” We were only a few blocks from her apartment, the drive there was quiet but comfortable. When I pulled up in front of the building, Madge hesitated with her fingers curled around the door handle.

“Any special care instructions for my new tattoo?” she teased, but something in her voice was shaky and nervous, which confused me.

“Just don’t be surprised when it starts to fade in a few days,” I tried to joke back and she laughed lightly, a soft breath of air through her nose.

“Right. Okay, well. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

“Gale, um…” she leaned in quickly, catching me off guard when her soft lips pressed against my cheek. I turned to look at her, but she was already slipping out of the car, face rosy red under the street lights.

“Thanks...for the distraction,” she mumbled quickly before shutting the door and spinning around on her heels to retreat into the apartment. 

I still hadn’t moved. Just sat there watching her with furrowed eyebrows and a stupid smile. My hand raised to touch the burning flesh where her lips had been. 

I don’t think a girl had ever kissed my damn cheek before.

+++  
  


I was getting hard over a kiss on the cheek. Was I the virgin or was Madge? Standing under the spray of water from my shower, all I could think about was silky blonde hair that smelled good when it hit my face. Pale skin exposed inside of my car.

Her lips on my damn cheek.

I tried the best I could to ignore my cock as it continued to grow. It felt wrong getting off to Madge when she was completely unaware. But my body was a live-wire, all the signals being sent down between my legs until finally I couldn’t resist anymore.

My head fell back with a groan as my wrist slipped around it and gave a firm squeeze. Balls drew up tighter against me.

_Fuck._

She had a power like no one I met before.

The kind that could undo me with a simple kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your enthusiasm for this story. I'm thrilled that you are enjoying it as much as I am! 
> 
> Well, spooky season is in full swing, is everyone enjoying their fall? October through the end of the year are my absolute favorite times, so I am at my peak coziness right now :) I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe. Until next time, xoxo


	9. November 5-9

* * *

"I'ma love you differently, I'll give you electricity."

-Dua Lipa

* * *

Madge called in sick to work.

For as long as we’d both been working at the deli, I couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t shown up to her shift. Of course I couldn’t help but wonder if the spontaneous kiss she’d given me had anything to do with it. 

I hadn’t seen her since that night.

Mr. Hoffman was in to replace Madge for the evening and while I didn’t necessarily mind his company, his naturally quiet disposition was a stark contrast to a typical work night with Madge. We finished early despite the shift passing painfully slow and when Mr. Hoffman waved goodbye, heading to the opposite side of the parking lot, I let out a sigh of relief. 

The apartment was dark when I got back, no sign of life. I grabbed one of the beers Finnick kept in the fridge and popped the top off before taking a long swig and searched for something leftover to eat. The fuckers were probably out at the Seam or something. And would either of them think to bring me something back? Not likely. 

I managed to scrounge something up and finished the beer by the time it was done heating. Ate in silence at the kitchen counter before rinsing off my plate and sticking it in the dishwasher. Finnick was on kitchen duty this week and I didn’t want to hear his complaints about me making extra work.

Bed was a welcomed change to a busy day. I fell onto it with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. There were a million things I needed to do, but all I wanted was to fall asleep, just like that. Feet dangling off the bed and all.

I lifted my phone up in front of my face and stared at it for a hard moment before it unlocked.

I had to scroll a little, but it wasn’t difficult to find Madge’s name inside of my inbox. I opened our last chat--the last night we worked together and I brought her to the football field. Last thing she sent me was a grinning face emoji when I told her I was outside waiting. 

My thumb lingered over the text box, debating whether or not to say anything. Or _what_ to even say. 

Why I even wanted to say it.

 **Me (10:45pm):** ~~Hey. Thinking about you. Hope you’re feeling better-~~

 **Me (10:46pm):** ~~Are you actually sick or just avoiding me?~~

 **Me (10:50pm):** ~~You left me with old man Hoffman tonight…~~

I exhaled, frustrated. Texting girls was not something I struggled with. Then again, usually when I texted a girl it was because I was inviting her into my bed. Not asking if she still had the damn sniffles or not. 

It felt like everything having to do with Madge Undersee was on display for the whole world to see. Like I was standing naked in the center of the football field with the stands completely packed. It didn’t matter the context; texting, talking, even playing video games felt like everyone knew something I didn’t. It frustrated the hell out of me and ironically, the person I wanted to talk about it to was Madge.

What a joke.

 **Me (11:13pm):** How ya feeling?

Small bubbles appeared almost instantly, teasing me as they bounced in the corner of the chat box for almost a full minute before Madge’s mammoth response came through.

 _Madge (11:15pm):_ Hey! I’m fine, thanks for asking. Just a cold, I think. Pretty sure I got it last weekend, when Darius and I were at the café in the student union. Do you know the one I’m talking about? Anyway, I took the lid off of my coffee to let it cool down and some guy walking past sneezed and didn’t even bother to cover his mouth. I know it’s disgusting that I didn’t ask for a new one, especially because I’m pretty sure I drank his germs now, but it felt like such a bitchy thing to do? To demand a new coffee over something so seemingly small. Anyways, I got my flu shot already so I should be covered.

 **Me (11:15pm):** That’s disgusting.

 _Madge (11:16pm):_ Lol, I volunteer at the hospital. Trust me, I’ve seen worse than a sneeze.

 **Me (11:17pm):** Next time just be a bitch and ask for a new coffee, lol.

I could practically picture her laying in bed, surrounded by a pile of tissues and laughing as her next message came through.

 _Madge (11:17pm):_ Lol, don’t make me laugh. It makes me cough!

 **Me (11:18pm):** Sorry.

 _Madge (11:20pm):_ I guess I’ll forgive you. How was work? 

**Me (11:21pm):** Boring.

 _Madge (11:22pm):_ Because you missed me?

 **Me (11:23pm):** Because Mr. Hoffman talks even less than me. 

I unbuckled my jeans and slid them off into a ball on the floor before pulling my covers back and sliding into bed. When I turned the light off, my phone illuminated the bedroom with Madge’s latest message.

 _Madge (11:23pm):_ Lol. That’s true, he’s a quiet man, but he’s pretty funny once you get him going. Here’s a tip for next time: he loves fishing. 

**Me (11:24pm):** Planning on being out again?

 _Madge (11:25pm):_ Aw. You really did miss me.

I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. Laying in bed, texting a girl because I missed her for one four hour shift? It was pathetic and I was positive that had this been anybody else I wouldn’t have ever let them live it down.

But I had missed her. Missed her stupid laugh filling the quiet space of the deli. Missed quizzing her for her tests and the way she always changed the radio station when she got into my car.

 _Madge (11:27pm):_ Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.

* * *

It was difficult, going from training practically every day during off-season to two or three times a week in the fall. It was a cycle my body could never quite get used to. I was jittery, filled with pent-up energy that usually was expelled in the weight room or on the field. I couldn’t even go for a decent run, the snow outside fell so thickly. 

Finnick went home to spend the night with his family for his mom’s birthday and Peeta was holed away in his room, studying. 

I was bored out of my damn mind.

The door to his room was open and when I stood casually in the threshold he looked up at me, expectantly.

“Want to go grab a burger or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed easily, closing his books. “I’m starving.”

“Great.”

“I thought Madge was coming over tonight?” he asked, shrugging into his jacket. “Didn’t you two have some sort of tournament?” 

It sounded so lame when he said it like that. There was a group of people from around campus who held _Final Tribute_ duels every so often. There were rounds, which got more intense the longer you held out and bets could be placed on who the perceived victor would be. 

Maybe it was a little lame. But it was fun, and Madge and I had planned on playing up in the loft tonight.

“She’s sick.” 

“That sucks,” Peeta lamented. “Hope she feels better.”

“Yeah. She needs to stop letting people sneeze in her coffee.”

“Yeah...wait, what?”

Thursday nights down on the District were always hectic, with drink specials and a lot of people’s schedules allowing for late nights. It was hard to find a place that wasn’t already packed with people, but we managed to grab a table at The Seam where appetizers were half off.

Peeta started talking about the fundraiser project the football team did each year around the holidays to raise money for children in need; be it from families with low-income or hospitalized. There was always a few categories we could choose from to help out--a soup kitchen, a 5k...but if I was being honest, my mind was drifting. So when Peeta asked me a question, I’d completely forgotten what we were talking about.

“What are you planning on doing?”

“I don’t know. Not sure there’s much I can do. She’s pretty stubborn and insisting that she’s fine. But she didn’t even go to her rotation at the hospital this week which makes me think she’s on death's door or something.”

“Uh...I was talking about the charity project,” Peeta admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Right. Yeah, I knew that. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re talking about Madge?” he pressed, and I felt myself getting irritated.

“Forget it.”

“We could...make her soup or something,” he suggested. Looking just as lost as me. In all the time we’d been roommates, I’d never known Peeta Mellark to have a serious girlfriend. There’d been the occasional fling after a game, when the groupies were particularly clingy and alcohol was flowing, but even that was sparse. Neither of us knew nearly enough about girls, an embarrassing problem to admit. 

“Soup?” I bit back, incredulously.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, sticking to his guns. “Who doesn’t like soup?”

“I’m not her boyfriend.”

“No one said you were,” he snickered, taking a bite of his burger. “But you’re friends. Don’t you think it’d be nice if someone made you soup when you weren’t feeling well?”

“Aw, Peeta. Do you want me to make you soup?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” he teased, laughing with me before leaving the invitation open for me to accept. “I have an easy recipe. We’d just need to run to the supermarket quickly.”

Christ, what was happening to me? Less than a year ago a successful night out would’ve included a stolen shots from the bar and waking up with a naked girl in my bed. Now it was dinner at six and trips to the store for soup?

Still, once the bill was paid, I sighed deeply and turned to look at Peeta.

“Let’s go.”

Peeta’s recipe was fairly simple. We cut up pieces of meat from a rotisserie chicken and mixed them in with bone broth, noodles, celery, onions, and carrots. All of which I cut up, thank you very much. By the time it was finished, I was hungry enough to eat it, if Peeta hadn’t already packaged it all up for Madge.

“You should bring it over tonight while it’s still fresh.”

I glanced up at the wall, where a clock hung. Not even nine. She’d probably still be awake, and if not Darius could take it for her. It wasn’t like I actually needed to see her. Just drop the soup off and leave. Peeta was already wiping the counters when he noticed me hesitating by the door.

“You need a pep talk?” he joked and I rolled my eyes before leaving. 

Despite having pulled up outside of Madge’s apartment several times, I’d never been inside. Long, bare hallways led to a flight of stairs and then her apartment was to the left, decorated with a festive wreath of multi-colored leaves and pumpkins and a welcome mat outside the door that said _wipe your paws._ Jesus.

Through the thin door, I could hear the television running and didn’t know whether to take that as a good sign or not. The longer I stood there the dumber I felt. What was I even going to say? _Hey, I know you’re sick and made absolutely no indication that you wanted to see me but surprise! Here I am. I brought soup._

I groaned, wondering how pissed off Peeta would be with me if I just left it at the door and dipped. They probably wouldn’t find it until morning, and by then it would be ruined. I didn’t even have a pen with me to leave a name, so then it would just be stale chicken noodle soup left by some anonymous creep.

I knocked before my mind had the chance to overthink it anymore. When the television paused, and her muffled voice sounded on the other side, I held a breath.

The door swung open, and there was Madge, staring back at me with a blank look of confusion. 

“Gale?” She sniffled, voice gruff from illness. She...didn’t look good. Hair slicked back into a messy ponytail, nose red from blowing it too many times. Eyes small, puffy slits behind her thick frames. She managed a smile, but it was short lived. 

She wrapped her arms around her large sweatshirt, and stared back at me with mild confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” My eyes flickered past her petite form, over to where her roommate stood in the kitchen, not so subtly watching. When our eyes met, he gave me a five fingered wave, grinning madly.

Madge twisted and shooed him away with the brush of her hand before turning back to me, still waiting.

“I brought you some soup.”

She brightened.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she insisted, even as she reached out for the container. “Did you make it?”

“Er, not really. Peeta...”

“Convenient that he happened to be making chicken noodle soup,” she mused, opening the container to take a whiff. 

“Well.” I scratched the back of my head, feeling the unwelcomed sting of embarrassment prick my cheeks. “I might’ve...mentioned something.”

She smiled, a genuinely happy smile before pushing her door open further.

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, I know you weren’t expecting me. I just wanted to drop--”

“Gale,” she said, the word pointed on her tongue despite the thick accent from illness. “Darius and I have been watching _The Great British Bake-Off_ all day. I could use a break.”

I laughed at the little eye roll she gave before conceding, stepping into the apartment fully before she shut the door.

It opened up directly into a narrow kitchen, with the living room to the left, sharing a wall. Straight through the kitchen was a small dining room and then a dark hallway where I assumed the bedrooms and bathroom were. 

“If you’re worried about getting sick, don’t be,” Madge continued. “I’m more bothered right now by the fact that I have my period.”

I halted at her candid confession and when she turned to look at me, I tried to play it off like we were having a perfectly normal conversation. Not one about _periods._

“What? You can have sex with a vagina but you can’t say the word _period?”_ she challenged, looking truly disgusted with me.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to--your face gave you away. Don’t you have a sister?”

“Yeah, she’s eight. She doesn’t get... _that.”_ At least, I was pretty sure she didn’t. 

“Your mother then.”

Not a subject I was about to fall trap to with her. Not tonight.

At my hesitation, she thankfully took pity on me.

“Just...don’t be such a dude about it, okay?” she reprimanded, flopping onto the couch and placing a heating pad over her stomach. “It’s not like you can catch it.” 

“Okay.” I sat on the end of the couch closest to her feet and picked at something imaginary on my shirt. 

“Do you need any...chocolate or anything?”

_“Really?”_

“What? I don’t know.”

She giggled, taking genuine delight in my floundering before shaking her head.

“The soup is fine. I might ask for a bowl of ice cream later, though.”

“Got it.” 

“Hey,” she said, poking me with her foot. “Thanks for coming over.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, to me it is.” She stared at me a paused moment before reaching for the remote to turn Netflix back on. 

Darius came out from down the hallway and fell onto the love seat opposite the couch.

“What? You can’t turn it off now,” he argued when she exited out of their baking show. “They were right in the middle of making millefeuille.”

“The millefeuille will be there when we return,” Madge snorted, voice thick with the sort of accent that only came with a blocked-up nose. She took a spoonful of the soup and blew gently on it before sipping.

“Wow, he comes bearing gifts, too,” Darius noted, watching her with a smile. “She hasn’t eaten all day, you know.”

When I looked at Madge she only shrugged, unphased.

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“Seems you have an appetite for something now.”

“Darius…”

“I’m talking about the _soup.”_

“Well. Glad I could help,” I said awkwardly, cutting into their exchange. Madge offered a sweet smile before giving Darius another hard look.

“You’re a regular knight in shining armor,” he said, standing up at the sound of a knock on the door. “And your timing is fabulous. Thom and I had a study date planned, but I was feeling guilty for leaving this one all alone.”

“I told him to go,” Madge said with a roll of her eyes, when Thom’s voice could be heard from the other side of the wall.

“We have more company. A friendly face you might know,” Darius said, and the two rounded the corner together to where Madge and I sat. Thom looked as surprised to see me there as I felt to be there, and at my awkward wave his smile increased.

“What’s going on, man?”

“He came to keep Madge company so we could study.”

“Cool.”

“We’ll be in my room if you need anything,” Darius said, linking hands with Thom with a smirk. “But, try not to need anything.”

“We’ll manage, I’m sure,” Madge teased with a roll of her eyes. “Have fun _studying.”_

Her dramatic use of air quotes around the word had Thom blushing and Darius smiling wickedly.

“You crazy kids have fun, too. But not too much fun--you’re still sick. Leave room for Jesus on that couch.”

“Bye, Darius.”

He blew her an air kiss before the pair disappeared down the hallway, leaving Madge I alone. 

We started watching a movie, the latest superhero movie that I was hardly paying attention to. The soup I’d brought had since been eaten, empty bowl discarded to the table beside us and Madge curled her legs underneath her with a blanket sprawled over to cover them.

Something rubbed up against my shin, causing a knee-jerk reaction to pull back and a small orange cat jumped at the suddenness of my movement. 

“It’s just Peter,” Madge chuckled, patting the space between the two of us for him to jump up on. He remained stubbornly on the ground, staring at me unblinkingly like the intruder I was.

“You’re not allergic, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. He’s very friendly, but he sheds like crazy. It’ll drive you nuts if you’re allergic.”

Finally he grew bored of the one-sided staring contest and jumped up on the couch to curl up in a ball between the two of us. When I pet the top of his head he began to purr and rolled over to show off his belly when Madge started rubbing it with her toes.

“He likes you, I think,” she said with a sniffle. “That’s good. He can keep you company while I jump in the shower.”

“I don’t have to stay.”

“I’ll be quick,” she said, leaving little room for debate as she rolled off the couch and collected up the empty bowl of soup. “I finally have some energy, I just want to take advantage of it.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to think too hard about how weird it was to be sitting in Madge Undersee’s living room while she went to go take a shower.

It was hard to tell how far down the hallway stretched, but I heard the door close and the water begin to run a moment later. The living room was neatly decorated to the point where I wondered how long the two of them had lived here together. 

Plants hung from what looked like handmade slings that connected from the ceiling and different paintings and photographs decorated the walls. In the corner by the loveseat was a record player, beneath it several different albums which caught my attention. 

I stood up and walked over to them, thumbing through the different names, both recognizable and unfamiliar. Beside it was a picture of Darius and Madge at what looked like a concert together, smiling widely up at the camera while completely drenched in rain.

“Most of those belong to Darius.”

“Jesus.” I jumped at Madge’s sudden appearance, leaning against the wall that connected the living room and dining room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just looked like you were admiring them.”

“He has pretty good taste in music.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a nod. “But don’t tell him that, he gives me enough crap about my music as it is.”

She laughed, making her way back over to the couch and patting the spot beside her for me to join. Her hair, still wrapped up in a towel smelled sweet, like strawberries. She tipped back a couple of cold and flu pills and swallowed them with a sip of water.

“Finally, I don’t have to hold my breath around you anymore,” I teased, waving a hand beneath my nose. She punched me with half the effort she’d normally give before letting her hair down from its towel and falling into a fetal position on the couch.

“It’s perfectly acceptable to sit around in your own filth when you’re sick. But, I will admit I feel better now.” 

“But at what cost?” I teased as she smiled up at me sleepily. “You look tired.” 

“I am.”

“Are you even comfortable?” I laughed, noting the way her long legs were squished up on her half of the couch, neck bent in an odd fashion to keep on her side. “I can sit on the other couch if you want to lay down.”

“I’m fine.”

I frowned, and when she looked up at me she pointed towards the television.

“Play the movie?”

Not ten minutes into it, she fell asleep, snoring quietly in her ball as she clutched the heating pad to her stomach. She looked pathetic. I tried to move off of the couch, just to give her the option to expand, but as I shifted her arm reached out and wrapped itself around one of my legs. 

Every few minutes or so she would move again, readjusting and slowly she began to unfurl further until her head was in my lap, one arm sprawled off the side of the couch and legs spread out along the remaining space at the other end. 

I wasn’t sure how long I’d be expected to sit there with her using me as a pillow but then her cat jumped up and made himself comfortable on the back of the couch, right behind my head, only adding to the discomfort of it all.

I focused on the movie, deciding that I would figure out a way to slip out after it was finished if she was still out. With all of the tossing she did, her hair was becoming a tangled mess across her face. I brushed it away from her, collecting it behind her head, to rest over the top of my leg and then her eyes began to flutter open.

“Hmm,” she sighed quietly. “That feels nice.”

“What?”

“Your hands.”

I almost pulled them away on instinct, but Madge was like a kitten, leaning into the touch as my hand faltered. I figured it was the medication she was on that was making her a little loopy. Her eyes were still heavily lidded, pupils fat, smile lazy. 

“Does it?”

“Yeah. My mom used to play with my hair when I was sick.” She yawned, stretching out further over me before sinking back into the couch. “Don’t you like having yours played with?” 

I wouldn’t know. But, I wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, I nodded down at her as she tipped her head up to look at me.

Her bright blue eyes shut and I began to braid her damp hair in back of her head unconsciously. Then, as if finally noticing, we chanced a puzzled at each other.

“Are you braiding my hair?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t even have a good excuse for why. “Sorry.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” she quizzed, amused.

“I have a little sister,” I reminded her, with a scoff. Then, her eyes softened, like two wide puppy dog eyes and she smiled back at me with a look I couldn’t decipher but I decided made me uncomfortable.

“And you _braid her hair?”_ she asked, voice sickly sweet. 

I rolled my eyes, dropping hers from my hands as I tried to push her up off of me. She laughed, not giving in but rather plopping her head back down onto my lap with a knowing smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Something. Just say it.”

“I just think that I put together another piece of my puzzle, that’s all.”

Puzzle? I looked around, and there were no puzzles out on any of her tables. Was she running a fever?

“What are you talking about, Undersee?”

“You, _Hawthorne,”_ she mimicked my low timber before chuckling. “You’re a puzzle. And I’m slowly figuring you out.”

I eyed her skeptically, before leaning back against the couch with my arm resting lazily over the back of it. 

“You haven’t figured out shit.”

“Have to. You’re not as hard as you like to pretend you are.”

“Trust me. I can get plenty hard.” I smirked and her pale skin flushed, suddenly we were both very aware that her head rested on top of my groin.

“Rule number one,” she grumbled, shifting a little so she was leaning more on my thigh, and I snickered. “And that wasn’t what I meant. I just meant that underneath that... _rough_ exterior is a big old softy, I think.”

“I knew what you meant.” 

“Though, I wouldn’t doubt your...erectile abilities,” she said with an awkward cough, and then I couldn’t help the way I howled with laughter. Her face was bright red, whether from her amusement or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, but as she calmed she had to wipe tears away from her face.

“Did you just say _erectile abilities?”_

“Shut up.”

“That’s very...medical of you.”

_“Shut up.”_

“Your dirty talk needs work, Undersee.” 

“So do you let your little sister braid your hair also?” she asked, reaching up to flick one long strand.

“Very funny.”

“I couldn’t resist. But, I’ll be nice, now. Otherwise I’ll feel like a jerk for asking for more soup.”

“You want more?” I asked but she only shook her head, eyes drooping closed again.

“No. I like laying here, for now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, the only sounds coming from the quiet purrs of Peter behind me and the soft volume of the television. Despite seeming content, Madge still looked like she’d been run over by a truck. Skin blotchy from fever, lips cracked as she was forced to breathe through her mouth. 

“You know, I really thought you’d called into work because you kissed me.”

She cracked an eye open, one brow furrowing deeply. Despite flushed skin I saw new color bloom to her cheeks before she pursed her lips.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” she whispered. “It’s not nearly as cute as when you’re bringing me soup.”

* * *

“So, what’s this I hear about _boys night in?”_ Finnick asked the next time I saw him, and when I shot a deadly look towards Peeta he looked guilty as hell.

“You guys do all of the fun stuff without me.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” I grunted, trying to kill the conversation as I bent beneath the dead lift bar inside the gym. It wasn’t an official practice, but a few of us had gone after classes just for the extra training. 

“Damsels in distress never are…” he batted his eyelashes. “Did you at least get a smooch for your effort?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he snickered. 

All the people who assumed guys only sat around talking about trucks and dirt and sports all of the time should love to be a fly on the wall now. With Finnick making kissy faces at me while we discussed chicken noodle soup recipes. I could feel my balls shriveling as we spoke.

“That wasn’t the point,” I argued back, despite myself. Setting down the weights, I crossed the gym over to where the speakers were and turned the music up several notches. 

“That’s always the point.”

“Madge isn’t just a booty call,” I bit back. “We’re friends. Just like Delly or anyone else.” 

“Wrong,” Thresh interjected with a laugh. “I’ve seen the way you look at Madge, and if you were looking at Delly that way we’d have a problem.”

“What is this? An intervention?” I hissed, moving past them deeper into the gym.

“So what if it is? Madge is cool, dude. Don’t let her get away because you’re emotionally constipated.” 

I didn’t respond, mostly because I had no idea how. I hated that whatever I was feeling was evidently obvious to the entire rest of the world but felt so muddled in my own mind. Yeah, I liked Madge. What was there not to like? The only thing that scared me was how much I was starting to like her. 

Because someone like Madge--who was going to be a goddamn doctor for god sake--deserved someone much better than me. What did I have to offer her besides trauma and emotional constipation? From the little bit she’d opened up to me about it, it was something she’d already experienced in her lifetime and didn’t need more of. 

If I was smart, I would quit while I was ahead. Keep her at arms length. Go back to just being the kind of friends that only spoke inside the walls of Hoffman’s. 

But fuck me, I was never all that smart.

+++

Leaving the gym, I scrolled through the unread messages and notifications I had on my phone. A picture of the soup we’d made for Madge, with the caption that it was her second bowl of the day. A message from Hazelle about Posy’s dance recital. And one from an unknown number that my phone filled in as _Maybe: Dad?_

_Maybe: Dad?(6:36pm):_ Hi Gale, it’s Dad. Call me when you get a moment.

I wasn’t in a good enough place to get into whatever bullshit he wanted to start that night. Not on the phone, where conversation felt vulnerable and too personal. At least through text message I could process what he had to say, think about what I wanted to say back. It was safer.

**Me (8:20pm):** Can’t. What’s up?

_Maybe: Dad? (8:22pm):_ I need a favor. Please.

**Me (8:22pm):** I don’t have more money.

_Maybe: Dad? (8:25pm):_ Please, Gale. You’re my only son. If I can’t rely on you, who do I have left? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it. Do you think this is easy for me? Please, son. 

My hand clutched the device so tight I was half surprised it didn’t snap. Guilt raged with anger inside of me, that he would have the nerve to manipulate me. Continue to ask for more, when he hadn’t even attempted to pay me back from the previous loan. Money I’d made peace with the fact that I would never see again, but I hadn’t given it to him to start a new cycle. I’d given it in hopes that it would keep him away from me for a while.

Stupid. _Stupid fucking idiot_. I deserved this shit because I kept letting it happen. Everything I got, I deserved.

**Me (8:27pm):** I don’t have more money. 

_Maybe: Dad? (8:27pm):_ I thought you worked.

**Me (8:28pm):** Yes. To pay bills. There’s never much left over. 

_Maybe: Dad? (8:28pm):_ Much? I’ll take anything.

I inhaled deeply, fingers shaking from a range of emotions as I punched in the next response.

**Me (8:31pm):** You can’t have it.

I sat in the car, paralyzed as I waited for a reply that still hadn’t come through yet five minutes later. I knew it would, and the waiting was almost enough to kill me, but I couldn’t do anything until it was resolved. 

_Maybe: Dad? (8:43pm):_ I’ll remember this, Gale. Next time you need something, just know that I won’t forget this. 

I shut my phone off and threw it across the car, not caring what happened to it. 

Screw him and his empty threats. There was nothing I’d needed from him since the time I was ten years old. I didn’t plan on starting now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, love in a time without Covid, lol. Does anyone even remember that, or is it just triggering? Because I won't lie, I was a little triggered writing this chapter, lol.
> 
> Anyways, here is your weekly reminder to stay safe and healthy friends! And to my American friends, please remember to v o t e! Your voice has the right to be heard :)
> 
> Until next time.


	10. November 14-17

* * *

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me.

-Billie Eilish

* * *

There was one type of call that fucked with me more than anything else. One that could send my blood pressure through the roof and had me acting on adrenaline alone. All sense and reasoning leaving me. 

It happened when Hazelle’s number showed up on my phone, but the small, delicate voice of one of my siblings sounded through the speaker.

“Galey?”

I stood up so quickly from my desk the textbook sprawled out on it crashed to the floor.

“Posy? What’s wrong?”

She broke out into a sob, words incoherent and I was already searching frantically for my keys. It didn’t matter that tomorrow I had a test in statistics that I couldn’t afford to fail. It didn’t matter that it was nearly ten o’clock and I had an eight am lecture. 

“Calm down,” I tried soothing her over the phone. “Talk to me.”

“I need you, okay?” she wailed, choking on her sobs. “I just need you.”

“I’ll be there soon. I’m getting in the car now.” 

Finnick and Peeta saw me rushing to the door, coat in hand, shoving my wallet down into the pocket of my jeans and stared back at me in confusion.

“Where are you headed so late at night?” Finnick asked, his tone reeking accusation.

“Out.” He didn’t deserve any more of an explanation. I wished in that moment that I lived in a world where the only reason to leave your apartment at night was to get laid.

I made it to Waukesha in record timing, faster than I’d ever driven down the highway--threats of speeding tickets be damned. 

The lights were still on at Hazelle’s house. The fireplace blew warm smoke up into the air, a welcoming gesture to those who had no idea what the ones inside of it were dealing with. 

I jogged up to the front door and knocked three times, the snow coming down in thick clumps and clinging to my hair and eyelashes. When Hazelle opened it, she looked surprised to see me, but barely was able to get a greeting in before I was stepping inside the house.

“Where is she?”

“Posy?” she asked, still confused. 

My eyes landed on her, sitting at the table with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in hand. She wasn’t crying anymore, just staring down at the liquid sadly...until she saw me. Her small lip started to quiver, and before she could even make it over into my arms she was already crying again.

“It’s okay,” I promised her, smoothing her hair with the palm of my hand. “I’m here.”

She clung tightly to me, refusing to let go with her head buried into my neck as she cried softly.

I looked at Hazelle expectantly, hoping she could fill in some of the blanks, but she looked just as lost as me.

“Bad dream,” she whispered in the only form of explanation. “She won’t say what it was about.”

“I heard her saying ‘Mom,’” Rory said, helpfully, and Hazelle wrapped an arm around his slender shoulders reassuringly. 

“Mom?” I repeated, looking straight at Hazelle, remembering the conversation I’d had with Vick a few weeks back, about the kids going to visit with her. When she wouldn’t meet my eyes, I felt my teeth clench.

“Don’t leave me,” Posy whispered brokenly into my neck and I wrapped my arms around her tighter. “Please.”

“You’re safe,” I promised her. “Everyone is here. Vick’s here, and Rory. Grandma. And I’m here too, Pos.” 

I sat with her curled up on my lap, rocking back and forth until her quiet sobs turned into sniffles and then eventually repetitive breaths that gave way to sleep. 

I waited until she was well into another dream, one that was more peaceful and allowed her to continue to rest, until I dared to move and put her back in her bed. Laying there, surrounded by pillows and a few of her favorite stuffed animals, she looked so small. So fragile and child-like.

By eight, I was well on my way to being hardened by adult responsibilities. Vick, too. Eight years ago, when I’d rock Posy to sleep the same way I had now, I’d never allowed myself to imagine this could’ve been her childhood. 

I brushed thick hair back from her eyes and left before she had the chance to wake, creeping back downstairs to find Rory passed out on the couch with an old knit blanket and pillow. I shot a confused look at Hazelle, motioning to his sleeping form and she gave a chagrin look.

“He...had an accident. I have to wash the sheets tomorrow.”

“He peed in his bed?” I asked, to make sure I understood correctly, and when she nodded in confirmation, asked, “Since when?”

“It’s been happening more frequently lately. Don’t mention anything to him, he’ll be embarrassed.”

“I won’t,” I mumbled, running a hand through my hair tiredly. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I have a test in the morning...it’s important…” 

“It’s not your responsibility to stay,” she reminded me gently, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with me. 

“I don’t want to be the kind of person who pops in every once and a while and disappears in the middle of the night without a word,” I shot back, leaving what I actually wanted to say unspoken.

“They know you aren’t like that.”

I shrugged, grabbing my keys off the counter and heading for the door.

“Gale, wait. Before you leave we should talk for a minute.”

“Alright.”

“Let’s go out on the porch. So we don’t disturb Rory.”

She grabbed her coat and gloves, following me outside with the door just barely cracked open to sit on the front steps. 

“Gale,” she said my name with a sigh. “You have to stop doing this.” 

“What?” 

“ _This,”_ she said again, pointing back towards the house. “Rushing back every time one of the kids cries for you.” 

“It’s my job to be there when they need me.”

“No, honey. It’s not,” she sighed. “You’re their brother, a fantastic one, no one can take that away from you. But you’re not their father. I’m sorry that responsibility was put on you in the past, it never should’ve been. It’s not your job to take care of them this way.”

I felt my jaw clench, objection rising in my chest and fiddled with the drawstring on my sweatshirt for a distraction.

“You’re twenty years old. You deserve to enjoy that and your time in college. Your only priorities should be your grades, playing football and having _fun.”_

“My only priorities?” I questioned, unable to keep silent. “My _only_ priorities.”

“I--yes.”

“That’s a little difficult to do when I’m getting harassed by my father and calls from my little sister screaming from nightmares about our mother. Since when did the kids start seeing her again, anyways?” 

“A few months ago,” she admitted stiffly. “Around September.” 

“Do you really think that’s the best idea?”

“Yes, I do.” Hazelle defended, as stubborn as me. “The visits are staggered. Once or twice a month.” 

“They need stability.”

“They need a relationship with their mother if she’s sober enough to rebuild it, which she is.”

“She’s sober because she’s in _prison,”_ I shot back, and the silence following my words stung the air. “Don’t think for a minute if she was on the streets she would choose a relationship with those kids over a high.”

“Sh _e'_ s their _mother_ , Gale. Your mother.”

“Yeah, our mother. The reason Vick is in therapy and why I got arrested at twelve for stealing diapers at the Pick n’ Save.”

“Things change. Situations change, time changes!” Hazelle cried, voice raising slightly with desperation. “I’m the kids guardian, yes. And I love all of you like you’re my own, but who am I to take the right away from a mother to see her children?”

“She lost her rights the first time she chose anything else over her children.” The clubs, the men, the booze, the drugs. It didn’t matter, it had always come above us. Since the time I was born. Hazelle would need to excuse me if I didn’t actually believe a couple short years behind bars had changed lifelong behavior.

“You’re supposed to protect them,” I muttered, disgusted by the whole thing. “They’re just kids. And they deserve better than waking up screaming from nightmares in the night and peeing in their beds. _Fuck.”_

I kicked at the snow that had accumulated on the step below us and rose up to my feet.

“I have to go.”

“You shouldn’t drive upset,” Hazelle cautioned, following after me. 

“I don’t have a choice.” I shot back, shoving my car door open. I stopped before falling down into it and sighed, looking over the roof at her. “I love you. Tell the kids I love them, too.”

“I will.”

I nodded and shut the door behind me before turning the key into the ignition. It shuddered, clicking with the beginnings of starting up before giving out. I tried again without success.

“Come on, damnit.”

Nothing. It fucking died. Because _of course it did._

I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in frustration and Hazelle came to the door to coax me back inside out of the cold. 

I passed through the living room, controlling my anger enough to keep from waking up Rory as I stalked into the kitchen and started punching in tow company numbers. All closed. Nothing would be open until tomorrow morning when it was time for me to be in a lecture hall taking my exam. 

I could jump the thing myself if I had the right tools. But there was nothing in my car, and nothing at Hazelle’s house. 

Short on ideas, I did the only other thing I could think of, and started scrolling through my contacts for someone to call.

The only person I wanted to call was also the last one I wanted to inconvenience. 

Still, I had an unread text from her sitting in my inbox, asking how my night was going.

**Me (11:38pm):** It’s been better. 

_Madge (11:39pm):_ What’s wrong?

I told her everything and then pathetically asked if there was any chance she could pick me up.

**Me (11:40pm):** I promise I’ll make it up to you.

_Madge (11:41pm):_ Gale, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Send me the directions?

I went upstairs to lay in Posy’s bed with her until Madge arrived. She slept soundly through the majority of the night, her soft breaths filling the room as I brushed her wild hair away from her face. After an hour or so, just as I was beginning to doze off myself, she turned over sleepily and blinked up at me in the dim hall lighting.

“Are you staying?” she whispered.

“For a little bit longer. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up, though.”

“Thanks for coming back.”

I kissed the top of her forehead before resting my chin on it.

“I’ll always come back, Posy.” 

She didn’t stir when I detangled myself from her limbs as Madge pulled up. It was almost two in the morning, and although she promised she had nothing going on in the morning, I felt like the biggest dick for making her drive out so late.

I heard Hazelle letting her in as I came down the steps.

“Come in. You don’t have to stand in the cold. I’m Hazelle, Gale’s grandmother.”

“Hi, I’m Madge,” she smiled politely, wiping melted snow off of her glasses before glancing around the small house curiously. When her eyes fixed on Rory, snoring on the couch, her smile increased and she looked between him and me a few times. 

“They look just alike, don’t they?” Hazelle commented. 

“It’s a scary thing to think there’s two Gales in the world,” she joked, making Hazelle laugh.

Rory might’ve looked like me, but he was far from a mini me. Too kind. Too soft spoken. Vick and I shared more in common. We both had a temper. 

“You’ll have to come back sometime when they’re actually awake, and you can stay.”

“I’d love that.”

“We should get going,” I interjected, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “It’s late. Madge has to be exhausted.” 

“Of course,” Hazelle said, pressing a hand to mine and Madge’s backs as we walked towards the door. “Drive safely. We’ll figure your car out, Gale. Don’t worry.” 

I nodded, waving quickly because I knew I’d regret not no matter my mood, before trailing behind Madge to her car.

The warmth felt good on my chilled skin and Madge had the foreknowledge to keep quiet for a long time as we sped down abandoned Waukesha streets. It wasn’t until we were on the highway that she dared to speak. 

“Your grandma seems nice.”

I grunted in response.

“I can’t believe how much your little brother looks like you,” she chuckled, staring ahead at the road. I nodded silently, and caught her as she glanced over.

“Do they live with her? Your grandma?” 

“Yep.”

“Oh. How long?” 

“A while.” 

She made a small noise from the back of her throat, thoughtful and contemplative.

And annoying.

“Did you grow up with her, also?”

“Stop,” I said, glaring out the window. I could feel my tempered anger rising, and it wasn’t her fault but I was close to combusting. 

I had her attention. Could feel the tension between us almost insufferably.

“Just...not tonight, okay? I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your psychoanalytical bullshit.”

“I was just asking a question.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Why are you mad at me right now?” she asked, irritation seeping into her tone. 

“Because you think you know everything but you don’t.”

“That’s not tr--”

“I’m not some project for you to figure out!” 

“I never said that you were,” she argued back, eyebrows pinching in confusion that had me scoffing.

“Right. You can’t help yourself, you just have to get into people’s business. Well fine, what would you like to know Dr. Undersee? That the reason my siblings live with our grandmother is because our mother is a junkie who chose drugs over her own goddamn kids? Oh, maybe you’re dying to ask how many of us share the same father. Spoiler alert: four kids, three dads, two of which were such scum they wanted nothing to do with their kids and the third so bad it would’ve been better if he’d just left too.”

“Gale,” she tried to interject over the top of me, but the words were spilling out without my consent. My chest felt like it was on fire, heart pounding and breath coming out in uneven spurts. The car felt too compressed. Too damn hot. I was sweating.

“You want to get into how he used to beat me over something as stupid as a lost remote control? Or how I had to beg our neighbors for food to feed my siblings because no one remembered to go to the store? Go ahead and diagnose the hell out of me. Tell me about all the reasons why I’m fucked up trash now that you’ve got _all the pieces of your puzzle._ ”

I dropped my head into my open hands, pulling at my hair in an effort to calm down but it felt impossible. It was easy to keep everything tucked away, hidden inside of different boxes but when they all collided it felt like chaos erupting in my core. 

Madge pulled off the highway at the next exit, right in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and stopped the car on the side of a road beside a long row of cornfields. 

I pushed the door open before she’d barely gotten into park, desperate for the fresh air to feel like I could breathe again. I sucked it in, uncaring that it was twenty-five degrees outside and snowing as I headed down closer to the cornfields. 

Not long after, I heard the door open and close in the distance.

“You can go,” I said. “I’ll call Peeta or someone.”

“I’m not doing that,” she answered, closer now. When her small hand tried to wrap around my forearm, I fought against it, pulling out of her grip and taking another step away, too ashamed to look at her.

“You’re right,” she said after a long pause. “You’re not a project. I’m sorry if I treated you that way.”

My breaths created a puff of smoke around me, disappearing into the night before being replaced by a new one. 

“It’s not your job to put me back together.”

“I know that.”

The wind whipped, bitterly cold against my skin but I welcomed it stinging numbness and used it to ground myself back to reality. The world had grown quiet again and I could start to hear myself think. Just when I was about to chance a look over my shoulder and see if Madge had retreated back to the car, she spoke. 

“Truth or dare?” 

I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes.

“Truth.”

“Tell me something you like about yourself,” she whispered. 

I started to laugh, a short self-deprecated sound as I shook my head.

“Just one thing.”

I thought hard for a moment, long enough that Madge assumed I wasn’t playing along.

“Anything.” 

“...I’m a good brother,” I muttered into the darkness. “I think.”

“I think so too,” she agreed, softly.

“Your turn.”

“Truth.”

“How do you always find the best in people? Even when they don’t deserve it.”

“There’s very few people in the world who don’t deserve _any_ benefit of the doubt, and you aren’t one of them,” she said, and that time when her mitted hand slipped into mine I didn’t jerk away. “Wouldn’t you rather live in a world where we all saw the best things too?”

“Reality makes it difficult.”

“Hmm. That’s true. It’s not always easy.”

The bomb inside me felt like it’d been diffused. Like I could breathe again, and the dark sky in front of me stopped being so hazy. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and it was true. She’d come all the way out there to pick me up in the middle of the night and I’d treated her like crap. Now that my head had cleared out, I felt like scum. 

She squeezed my hand tighter. “Come on, it’s freezing. Let’s get back in the car.”

The ride home was quiet, save for Madge’s soft music playing in the background. The closer we grew to Panem, the more embarrassed I became. At how angry I’d gotten--just like my damn father. For telling her so much. For allowing myself to feel so exposed.

There was no universe in which Madge Undersee and I belonged together. None that we were on the same playing field. The shit like what happened tonight, phone calls at all hours from my siblings who suffered in ways they couldn’t comprehend yet. Me running without a thought. The anger. These weren’t isolated events. I was starting to think it was something I’d never even grow out of. 

She needed the opportunity to get out while she could. Before I pulled her in too deeply. 

When we rolled up in front of the apartment and Madge put the car into park, we sat silently for a paused moment before I unbuckled.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” She bit the corner of her lip before opening her mouth once more, words escaping on an exhale. “Gale, I--”

“You should go, Madge,” I muttered, door already halfway open. One foot was out onto the pavement. “Thank you but...you should go.”

Her eyes were dull, lips set in a tight line. When another awkward moment passed without words exchanged, I stepped out fully and shut the door behind me, watching as she drove away, disappearing down the street. 

* * *

I passed my statistics test.

Any other time it might've been something I was proud of. Allowed myself to celebrate, even, because I really needed that damn grade...

But as I stared at my computer screen, flashing the grade, I could barely find it in myself to be happy.

* * *

Twice a year, ESPN flew college sports anchors Caesar Flickerman and Cladius Templesmith out to The University of Panem to provide live coverage of our most hyped games of the season. Campus always showed up during home games, but the chance of making it onto cable television had the place roaring with even more life. 

Before the game, the rookie quarterback, Michael Brutes--better known as Brutus--and I had interviews lined up to talk with Flickerman about how the season had been going and projections for the remaining weeks.

It was the very last thing I felt like doing, but Flickerman had an excellent way of making even the most boring players seem likable. An interview with him went a long way in terms of scouts and getting college players on the map towards NFL drafting. I wasn’t in a position to refuse.

It was cold as balls out, but at least it wasn’t snowing. When Caesar welcomed me onto the makeshift stage that had been placed outside the Justice building, I was amazed by the amount of bystanders in the crowd below. Drunk students with beer cans in hand trying to claim a moment of internet fame behind the cameras, others decked out head to toe in Nightlock paraphernalia. The cheerleaders and mascot were out in front of the stage, pumping the crowd up in between commercial breaks. It was a damn three-ring circus.

“Gale Hawthorne,” Caesar greeted with his iconic bold smile as he welcomed me to sit in one of the plush chairs beside him. “I have been trying to get my paws on you all season. You are a very popular man.” 

A few girls in the crowd whistled loudly, making Caesar laugh. I played along, winking in the direction of the attention and laughing at all of Flickerman’s jokes. 

“I’m sure you’re quite the ladies man around campus. Any girl locked you down yet?” 

“No, none yet.”

“Hear that, ladies? He’s single.”

The answering cheers got him going again and I smiled brightly, all the while wishing for the whole thing to be over so I could go into the locker room and start warming up to focus on the actual game.

I answered the necessary questions about game play and strategy, Coach and Finnick’s season-ending injury. Stats about our opposing team, Michigan, which earned resounding _boos_ from the students in the crowd, and finally Flickerman was shaking my head and cutting to a commercial break.

I fled the stage, giving Brutus a quick but encouraging pat on the back before heading up campus to the mouth of the stadium, which was already beginning to pack with people pre-gaming beforehand.

Finnick was inside the lounge that broke off into the locker rooms, where snack bars and large screen televisions were set up for entertainment during our extremely short downtime. He was situated in a massage chair, head tilted back and eyes closed in pleasure as I approached. 

“I was just out there giving a sob story about your tragic injury. You don’t seem to be minding medical leave all that much.”

“It has its moments,” Finnick agreed, sipping on his smoothie loudly. “I’ll be in here getting a massage while you’re outside freezing your ass off.”

“Shut up.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Eh, don’t let me get to you,” he said with a soft smile. “I’d rather be on the field.”

I frowned, because I knew he wasn’t lying. Finnick, for annoying as he could be, poured his heart and soul into the team. I had to imagine it was difficult to watch us go out and play week after week while he sat by useless on the sidelines.

“Coach was looking for you earlier, by the way. Think he’s up in his office.”

A call up to his office was rarely a good thing and silently, I racked my brain for what I could’ve possibly done. I hadn’t skipped any meetings with my counselor, as far as I knew I was passing all my classes. For a split moment I wondered if it could possibly be about my impromptu trip to Waukesha but ruled it out just as fast. That had been a Thursday. We weren’t under curfew or anything, and it wasn’t really any of his business what I did outside of those times. 

Instead of putting it off and summoning every possible bad thought to mind, I jogged up to his office after changing into uniform to see what was up.

When he noticed me in the doorway, he glanced up and took his glasses off of his face.

“Come in, Gale.”

“Jeez, you sound like you’re about to tell me someone died,” I joked, stepping in and closing the door behind me. “Finnick said you were looking for me.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest.”

“Okay…”

“Does the name Hoffman’s Deli mean anything to you?”

My stomach dropped at the establishment’s name on Coach’s lips, and the way his eyebrow raised in a way that implied he already knew the answer.

My mind raced for something to say, any possible way to find myself out of this mess that didn’t result in me losing the job or quitting the team. 

“Who told you?” 

“Damnit, Gale,” he sighed deeply, disappointed as his hand slammed down onto his desk. “You are aware that holding a job during the season goes against the school’s contract with the NCAA?” 

“Yes.”

“You need to quit.”

“Respectfully, that isn’t an option,” I admitted, already shaking my head in argument. 

“It’s not an option to keep it. It’s quit, or I’ll be forced to suspend you for the rest of the season. And seeing as I’ve already lost my quarterback, that’s not something I’m really looking to do.”

“I know I’ve put you in a tight spot but…” 

“A _tight spot?_ ” he laughed, incredulously. “If you choose to do this, you’re sinking this team. I’ll remind you, a team you are under contractual obligation to.”

“I understand. And I’ll take whatever punishment you feel is necessary, Coach, but I hope you understand I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can’t just quit.”

He pushed back his chair, rising to his feet angrily as he headed for the door.

“Change back into your street clothes then, Hawthorne. You’re benched until further notice.”

“Wait, Coach.”

He stopped reluctantly in the door frame.

“Who told you?” I asked once more. 

He raised his hat off of his bald head and a ran a hand over it before replacing the cap.

“An anonymous tip. Didn’t want to believe it, but…” he trailed off with a shrug, before motioning me back down into the locker room to change. 

+++

News about the suspension traveled fast. By half-time Caesar was already discussing my new benching and news articles were speculating the reasoning behind it, without any official word given.

Unlike Finnick, who was allowed to enjoy viewing the game from inside the arena, with the comfort of food and heated seats, I was paraded out in front of the entire stadium to sit on the sidelines and watch the train wreck of a game that took place in front of me.

It wasn’t just because of my suspension, I knew better than to believe I could make or break a top-division football team. But the team was shaken up. First Finnick, now at the last minute, me. Rookies who were completely green on the turf were given moments notice before stepping into our shoes and it showed. We weren’t prepared for it, and the loss against Michigan was brutal. 

Finnick wasn’t speaking to me when I got back to the apartment, but he did his damnedest to make sure I knew he was there. Slamming crap around in his anger, it was difficult to ignore him until finally I cracked.

“What is your problem?” I shouted over the top of him, stunning both him and Peeta. 

His eyebrows pinched as he studied me across the room, disgust clear in his expression.

“My problem is that instead of being a team player and quitting your stupid job, you’re being a dick,” Finnick replied. "Do you really need the extra money? The student athlete center gives out free burgers, anyways. I know it’s not _Sae’s_ but…” 

He thought this was about burgers? I felt my own anger beginning to rise.

“Do they give out free housing, too?” I shot back, glaring as he had no clever reply for that. “No? Well then I guess I’ll be a _team player_ living in my car when I can’t afford to make rent.”

"No one is asking you to do that," Peeta interjected, holding a hand up between the two of us in an effort to diffuse the situation. It was too late. Finnick and I were inches apart, separated only by Peeta, and he glared at me with disdain.

“What else do you want?” he fired back. “You already live here for a fraction of what Peeta and I pay, there’s not much more we can do for you. I mean, seriously. I would give anything to be able to play again and you’re throwing it away for some shitty part-time job to get into Madge’s pants?”

“What did you just say?” I asked, and Peeta shot him a deathly stare. 

Finnick’s face visibly paled, realizing he’d slipped. His mouth opened, a stuttered reply beginning before he started over.

“I...well, you,” he started, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. 

“What do you mean I pay _a fraction_ of what you and Peeta pay?” I asked, voice raising as my mind fought frantically to figure out if it was true or not. I looked between the two of them, their guilt was enough to answer my question.

“How much?” I paid roughly $350 to Peeta each month, a reasonable sum, I had assumed, for the size of our apartment divided three ways.

Peeta scratched the back of his head, cheeks growing red.

“Fuck,” I hissed. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, man. We pay like, $750,” Finnick answered. 

“You’ve got to be joking. And you two just knew this? The entire time? What, did you have a good laugh about it, too? Your personal charity case?”

“Gale, come on,” Peeta started, taking a step towards me. Immediately, I stepped back, and he paused. “We’re friends. I didn’t want to put you in a bad position.”

“Huh. Well, how’d that work out for you?” I asked, not waiting for a reply before turning out the front door and heading straight for my car.

I just started driving, the need to be away from the apartment before either of them could say anything else too great. Speeding down the campus streets, I drove to Madge’s house on autopilot. Sat out front of her apartment like a creep for a good ten minutes while I debated whether or not to go inside. 

We hadn’t talked since she brought me home the other night. Nothing besides a short text message to tell her I got my car back. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure she wanted to see me. Especially unannounced.

I decided to text first.

**Me (8:38pm):** Are you home?

_Madge (8:40pm):_ Yeah. Want to come over?

**Me (8:41pm):**...I might already be here…

_Madge (8:42pm):_??

**Me (8:43pm):** Outside.

_Madge (8:43pm):_ Come up. 

I did as she said, walking up the staircase leading to her apartment, where Madge stood with a perplexed expression and arms folded under her chest.

“Nice outfit,” I commented, noting her fuzzy pants with hearts speckled over them and the long sleeved matching thermal she wore.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“I know. Sorry. I don’t know why I came…” 

“Come inside,” she said, grabbing hold of my hand and insisting I followed her in. 

The house was quiet. Madge’s small cat slept at the top of his cat tree, curled into a ball, and a book sat face up on the kitchen table next to a mug.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Out,” she supplied vaguely, pouring a matching cup of tea for me before motioning for me to sit across from her. 

“I don’t drink tea,” I muttered even as she pressed it against my hand, insistently.

“Drink it. It helps with stress.”

“Who said I was stressed?” I snorted.

“You didn’t have to say it.” She frowned and sat across from me. “Do you...want to talk about it?”

Kind of. For whatever reason, unknown to me, Madge was the easiest person for me to open up to. She just always seemed to...get it. Even when I didn’t want her to. Even when it annoyed the shit out of me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it all yet. 

Instead, I turned my attention to her book and pointed to it with a smirk.

“Reading more porn?”

“Yep, that’s what I do with my Saturday nights. Just sit at my dining room table with tea and read pornography.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“You should borrow it,” she said, placing the bookmark inside her chapter before scooting it across the table. “I think you’ll like it.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“It’s not _just_ a romance,” she said with an eye roll. “There’s friendship and adventure and battles. It’s very much a book for everyone.”

“Hmph,” I muttered, fanning through its pages quickly. “I’ll have more time on my hands, that’s for sure.”

Her lips pursed and she raised her glass up to her lips, taking a languid sip.

“Is this about your suspension?” 

“You heard?” Who was I kidding? You’d have to live under a rock to not have heard by now, and for all of the things Madge was, dumb wasn’t one of them.

She nodded reluctantly with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Coach found out about my job.” 

“How?” she asked, pale faced. “I didn’t--”

“I know.” Her shoulders relaxed some. “I don’t know how. He said an ‘ _anonymous tip_.’ To make things worse, I found out tonight during a fight with Finnick that I apparently am a huge freeloader who’s been living in the apartment for $400 less a month than everyone else.” 

“Oh, Gale.”

I pushed a hand through my hair and sighed heavily through my nostrils before shrugging.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t afford to pay that much--especially if I have no job--and now that I know I can’t--I won’t--”

“I understand. No wonder you’re stressed.”

“I’m fine. Sorry to come over unannounced, I just needed to not be there and I didn’t know where else to go…” I trailed off, feeling stupid, and Madge studied me for a long moment before standing up from her chair suddenly. 

“Come on,” she said, and started dragging the chair down the hallway into the bathroom. I blinked, confused, but followed her anyways and watched as she positioned it with the back up against the sink before pointing a hard finger down at it.

“Sit.”

“What?” I half-laughed, confused but Madge was already twisting towards the shower, searching through a row of hair products. 

“Trust me,” she said, grabbing two bottles before turning back to face me. “Just...relax.”

I did as I was told, sitting stiffly in the chair before she pushed me back to lean my head against the top of the chair. 

“Are we playing ‘beauty parlor?’” I asked, only half kidding.

“Yes. Close your eyes.” 

They shut and I felt Madge pulling at the ends of my hair before it was doused with warm water. 

“How’s the temperature?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” I heard the container of her shampoo click open and then the room smelled like strawberries as she began to work it through my hair. 

“You can stay the night here, if you want,” she said quietly. “It’s not going to bother me. But, I think tomorrow you need to try and work things out with Peeta and Finnick.”

“Oh, so that’s why you brought me here?” I teased, but the joke fell flat. “To trap me so you could talk about my problems?”

“They’re your friends, Gale, and clearly they care about you.”

“Shitty way of showing it.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But...boys can be shitty sometimes.” 

“I’m sorry, Madge,” I apologized, sensing she wasn’t only referring to Peeta and Finnick. “I was an ass to you.”

“Yeah, but you were having a panic attack,” she said, and no one had ever called what happened the other night that. Moody, yes. Out of control of my emotions I’d heard too. But never a panic attack.

“That’s not what it was.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure it is,” she argued. “And...by the sound of it...you have fair enough reason.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“Gale, we don’t have to talk about this but if what you said the other night is true...I’m sorry you had to deal with that. That you’re still dealing with it.”

What reason would I have for lying about something so humiliating?

“It’s true,” I muttered. 

She hummed thoughtfully as her hands continued to run through my hair.

“Well. I’m here if you ever want to talk about it more. And I’ll work on not diagnosing you. Even though I kind of just did. Last time, promise.” 

I laughed and chanced opening an eye to look up at her when I heard her laughing too. She looked down at me with a small smile and I realized just how close she was to me. One leg straddling mine. Inner thigh brushing against the hand that was locked to the bottom of my chair. 

“Your uh, shirt is getting a little wet. Sorry. I could grab a tow...el…” her words trailed off as I lifted it up over my head wordlessly and rested it over my thigh. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a light flush came over her cheeks before she looked away. The silence between us was thick, and for a moment I wondered if I’d made her uncomfortable.

“You can still get a towel if you want.”

“No. This works,” she chirped, busying herself with the massage. Her fingertips trailed through my hair, kneading my head in small, circular motions. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. Like in that simple motion, years of tension had been released.

“Good?” she whispered, voice raspy. I opened my eyes to find her face just a few inches away from mine. Arms on either side of my face. Chest practically touching my naked one. We stared at each other for a moment before she swallowed and blew her stubborn hair out of her eyes.

“Sorry. There’s not really any way around the awkward position in here.”

“I don’t feel awkward,” I admitted and the smile died on her lips when I released an involuntary moan as her nails scratched my scalp. 

Then it was my turn to apologize for the awkwardness.

“We keep apologizing,” she laughed lightly. “I think we’re scared of freaking the other one out.”

“Are you freaked out?” I asked, and her full lips parted slightly.

“No…”

“Neither am I.”

Her hands stopped for a moment in my soapy hair as she blinked lazily down at me. 

“Oh. Good.”

She ran warm water through my hair again, ridding it of all the suds before repeating the same process with the conditioner. We stayed quiet through the remainder, with me switching between watching her with lidded eyes and keeping them shut in an effort to not get hard with her knee so close to my crotch. A futile effort I was slowly losing.

“Finished,” she finally whispered and we stared at each other for a heated moment.

“Thank you.”

“It was...any time,” she stammered. 

I could feel her exhaled breaths against me as she migrated closer, as if an invisible magnet was pulling her in towards me, and her eyes focused on my lips.

Mine could barely stay open as the space between us grew smaller. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted _her_ to kiss _me._ My knuckles were practically white with the effort it took to keep them glued to the bottom of the chair, instead of grabbing onto her waist or hair or anything and pulling her in closer to me. 

But she’d been hurt before. That singular knowledge kept me at bay. I wasn’t going to be the dick who hurt her a second time around. So, I willed my hands to behave and matched her movements, only bringing myself closer as she did. 

When her hands came to either side of my face and lips connected with mine, the kiss was so quick I’d hardly registered it happening. She looked back at me, surprised, eyes rapidly switching between meeting mine and then my lips. 

“That it, weeny?” 

She laughed, a light sound that made her shoulders shake a little before she leaned in closer and we kissed again. That time, she didn’t break away just a few seconds later. The kiss deepened and her hands went into my hair, tightening around us in a dare for it to be broken. Her soft lips scalded mine, intense heat that made my insides stir at the feeling. Instinctively, my hands went up to rest on her hips, and when she started to ease down onto my lap, I made no objections. 

It didn’t matter that we were sitting there, in a fold down chair in her bathroom with my hair dripping down my shoulders. Or that I was half naked and she was in fuzzy pajamas. I didn’t care about any of it.

_Why had I waited so long to kiss her?_

When we broke apart for a breath, our foreheads stayed pressed together and looked back at her.

“Rule number one?” I teased and her fingers tickled the nape of my neck.

“Rules are boring, anyways,” she quipped before pressing herself into me harder.

And in that moment nothing else mattered. Not football. My shitty father, or my shitty roommates.

All that mattered was her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all need a bit of a distraction tonight, don't we? I hope everyone is taking care of themselves mentally. This world is stressful, remember to breathe. Drink water. Call a friend. Go for a walk. If you're like Gale and Madge, get lost in a video game or a book! Just protect yourselves. Sending out thousands of virtual hugs. Stay safe friends, wherever in the world you may be! 
> 
> Until next time <3


	11. November 18-29

* * *

_You know I talk too much._

_Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up._

-COIN

* * *

I woke up to Darius standing over me, mug of coffee in his hands and a perplexed expression. 

“Do I want to know why you’re sleeping on my couch?”

I groaned, rubbing my sore neck as I sat up. 

“Probably not.”

“Figured,” he snickered, sitting on the other end of it. “You scared the shit out of me, you know. Wasn’t expecting to find a man in my apartment at three a.m.” 

“Sorry. Madge and I were hanging out…” I trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain what had happened last night. It seemed like some sort of strange fever dream under the haze of daylight, that if I hadn’t woken up in the apartment I might’ve wondered all together if any of it had been real.

Madge’s cat jumped up onto the couch with a trill, sniffing Darius’s coffee mug curiously. 

“There’s breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks…”

Madge came down the hallway then, dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, slippers.

“Morning!” she greeted sunnily on her way into the kitchen. From the other side of the wall we heard her light gasp before she came into view again, holding a pastry box. “Darius, I love you.” 

“I do what I can.”

“Have you tried one of these donuts?” Madge asked, looking at me now. “They’re magic.” 

“No.”

“Come on, you have to,” she said, directing me to the kitchen with a wave of her hand. She cut a piece off of one before popping it into her mouth and groaning in satisfaction. 

“How did you sleep? Was the couch comfortable?”

“Yeah, it was fine. Thanks for letting me crash.”

“Of course,” she said in between another bite. She really did turn into a gremlin when sugar was involved. I took a bite, nodding in appreciation, and when she laughed a dusting of powdered sugar expelled from between her lips.

We were both skirting over the events of last night. I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for me to say something or if that meant she didn’t want to discuss it, but the air felt thick with the unresolved tension hanging onto it.

“What do you have going on today?” she asked. 

It was Sunday, so a whole lot of nothing. 

I shrugged in answer and Madge licked her fingertips.

“Are you going to go home? To...you know, talk it out.”

I sighed deeply. “Yeah, I guess I can’t hide out forever.”

“It will be good for you.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily true.”

“Just tell them how it all made you feel. They’ll understand.”

“How it made me _feel?”_ I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’ll just sit in a circle and drink hot cocoa while discussing our feelings.” 

“Ugh, okay I get it,” she groaned with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You’re a big, strong alpha male. Please, stop being unattractive.”

When surprise registered on my expression, Madge couldn’t help but start laughing at my expense, only giving a casual shrug of her shoulders in a completely unapologetic way.

“Take it back. I’m never unattractive.”

“I’ll take it back when you talk with your friends and quit pouting like a little boy,” she promised, leaning in closer and poking me right in the center of my chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist, daringly, a move she appeared to be unfazed by. Her hands rested more casually against me as she tilted her head up to keep my gaze.

“Fine, you win,” I told her with feigned annoyance. “Pain in the ass.”

“You’ll be happier once everything is resolved. And then…” she trailed off, licking powdered sugar off her bottom lip. It was sexy as hell.

“Then?” I prompted and she smiled.

“You can come back over and kiss me again.”

“I’m not trying to ruin the mood, but these are very thin walls,” Darius called out from the living room, making Madge giggle. 

I leaned down to kiss her, an action she accepted readily. She sighed against me, breath fanning across my face as her hands looped around my back, holding me closer to her.

So, I guess we weren’t avoiding the subject, then. 

When we broke apart, her dazed eyes searched mine and she cleared her throat.

“Alright, get out of here.”

I took another bite of her donut before heading for the door, casting a wave over my shoulder at Darius as I left. 

It was frustrating, the way she had the ability to make everything seem clearer. Better. Nothing had changed since last night, but the sense of dread that had been weighing me down didn’t feel so suffocating anymore. 

Finnick and Peeta were both at the apartment when I arrived. Their blank expressions as they watched me come in told me they weren’t entirely sure how the conversation was going to go. That made three of us. 

“Were you gone all night?” Peeta asked, and beside him Finnick took a large bite of cereal.

“I stayed with Madge.”

“You could’ve come home,” Finnick muttered. “No one kicked you out.”

“Think it was best for all of us that I didn’t,” I said, leaning against the counter opposite of them. “We all needed to chill.”

I grabbed the box of cereal between the two of them and poured some into a bowl. 

“I agree, but can we talk now?” Peeta asked, folding his hands like a father about to start scolding his two sons. I shrugged and Finnick kept staring down at his bowl, and Peeta sighed.

“What happened last night never should have. The arrangement Finnick and I made was supposed to stay private--”

“Look, I know you’re trying to help but telling me that I was never supposed to find out I was your charity case doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

“You’re not our charity case, douchebag, you’re our _friend,”_ Finnick huffed. “Friends help each other out. It’s not that serious.”

“I think what Finnick is trying to say is that it’s not like you’re ‘all take,’” Peeta interjected. “You do more than your share around here. Remember when the dishwasher broke? You easily saved us a couple hundred bucks by fixing it yourself.” 

“Yeah,” Finnick agreed. “And Peeta sucks at video games so without you there’s really no point in playing. It’s an easy win.”

Peeta rolled his eyes and I couldn’t help but snicker a little.

“It’s not like either of us pay rent, either,” he continued. “Our parents do. They can afford it, trust me.” 

“They don’t mind doing it because they’d rather the three of us were able to keep living together over you having to go back to the dorms or something.”

“Peeta’s mom doesn’t just send those care packages for show.”

It was true, Evelyn Mellark’s care boxes were legendary in the house. She always sent essentials like laundry detergent and toilet paper, but beneath that would be items like _Sour Patch Kids_ because she knew they were Finnick’s favorite, or the weird ass potato chips flavored with crab seasoning that Peeta got me hooked on. Like we were all her sons. Just more members of the extended family. 

“I’m not trying to free load,” I muttered, because while I believed everything they were saying, it didn’t change the fact that I lived there for significantly less than they did. The balance had shifted, placing me at the very bottom, and it was going to make living there with the same level of comfort as before difficult. 

“Dude, you’re not. I was just mad last night and I took it out on you. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Peeta insisted. “Just stay in the meantime. You’ve already paid through the first of the year. No need to leave.”

I sighed, reluctantly giving in with a half shrug and when Peeta pulled me in with one of his massive arms, I gave him a hug back.

“Thanks,” I muttered, even when Finnick came to join as well.

“We’re family. This is how it goes.”

* * *

After our morning classes on Monday, Madge and I met up to grab lunch at the Union. It’d been snowing on and off all morning, coming down in intermediate spurts that picked up again as we walked down the street. 

Madge, who normally overdressed for winter, donned with matching scarf and hat sets, rubbed her bare hands together chillily at the exposure.

“I forgot my gloves,” she said in explanation when she saw me looking. 

“There should be a pair in my backpack,” I said, turning so that she could inspect the bag. I felt her digging around for a minute before she pulled the thick black ones free and slipped them over her small hands with a content sigh. They looked ridiculous on her, like cartoon gloves, but they were warm on the inside at least.

“Thanks,” she smiled up at me, tip of her nose and cheeks bright pink, making the freckles on her face more prominent. Her gloved hand slipped into mine, tightening around it. I returned the action wordlessly, staring ahead at the union as we walked in comfortable silence. 

It was crowded with students all trying to do the same, but we managed to find a table off in a quieter corner where it didn’t feel like we needed to shout in order to hear each other.

“So everything went well yesterday.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but rather a statement she expected me to elaborate on. I watched as she doused her salad in dressing before shutting the plastic top again and shaking the life out of it.

“Yeah, I guess.” I took a bite out of my chicken sandwich. “They don’t want me to move out.”

“Which is nice…”

“If I can figure out how to live there.”

“Well, there’s no rules against having a job in the off-season, is there?”

“Technically, no.”

“So, this really isn’t a problem until next fall.”

“I mean, I guess,” I huffed. “Unless coach decides to cut me early because he doesn’t want to deal with the drama.”

She scoffed, like the idea was preposterous, and her level of confidence made me laugh.

“He won’t cut you.”

“How do you know? You’ve never even seen me play.”

“I’ve caught a game or two around,” she said with a sly smile. “My physics teacher even gave me extra credit once because I explained the relationship between force and gravity involved.”

I stared at her blankly as she took a large bite out of her salad. Chewing, she noticed me and cast a confused look.

“What?”

“Only you could make football sound nerdy.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is _fascinating,”_ she corrected, waving her fork at me. “Hey, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” 

“No, not really.”

Her forehead wrinkled in bewilderment.

“You’re not going home?”

“Nope. Team’s got a shift with the Salvation Army Thanksgiving morning and a big game Saturday.”

_“Big_ game?”

“It’ll decide whether or not we make it to play-offs.” 

“Oh. And you still have to go even though you’re--” her words cut off, as though she’d just caught herself from saying something terrible and the look on her face was almost laughable.

“Suspended? Yep. Load of crap, isn’t it?”

“Do you think your coach might change his mind?” she asked. “Since it’s such a big deal.”

“Doubtful. He’s making me trek all the way out to Minnesota just to sit on the sidelines this weekend.” 

He’d barely said two words to me since he found out about Hoffman’s. The man was almost as stubborn as Finnick, who I still wasn’t entirely convinced hadn’t only forgiven me because Peeta made him. 

“It’ll be good for morale, at least,” she winced, trying her best to stay positive despite my negativity. But there was no positive spin to put on it. It sucked. And I was reliving the mortification of it every time he forced me to show up to games and practices like I hadn’t bent everyone there over and fucked them. 

I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I flipped the script on Madge, inquiring about her Thanksgiving plans. 

“None to speak of. Last year I went home but the travel was terrible. It didn’t feel worth it for just one weekend. I’ll go once the semester is over.”

“Something to look forward to, at least.”

“Yeah. It’ll be weird not being home, though,” she sighed, before laughing a little. “We always have dinner on Wednesday night and then leftovers on Thanksgiving because we go into Manhattan to see the Macy’s parade. I don’t know if I’ve never _not_ seen it in person. It sounds stupid, I know--”

“Nah,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s tradition.”

Everyone had them one way or another. Hazelle started making them with the kids after she gained full custody. Was still trying with me. 

“I have an idea!” she said brightly, entire body perking up. “We should do a Friendsgiving.” 

When I looked at her like she’d just had a stroke, her eyes rolled.

“Thanksgiving but with friends. Since no one is going home for the holidays it could be a fun way of celebrating, don’t you think?” 

“Finnick’s going home after the charity drive,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why it mattered if he did. 

“What about Friday night? I know you guys have the game on Saturday, but we can make it early. Just cook and play some games or watch a movie. Darius and Thom could come, too! And whoever else you think.”

She was already so excited, wheels turning inside her head as her fingers typed a quick message out to who I could only assume was Darius. Saying no wasn’t going to be an option, I could already see. Plus, if I did, what would she do then? Eat a sad little meal with Darius and Thom before they inevitably left her to study alone in her apartment for the night? 

Shit. 

“...What time are you thinking?” I asked, hesitantly, but her eager grin from across the table was enough to make me feel like the decision had been right.

It was dangerous, the way she already had me ready to do damn near anything for her.

* * *

“You know what the poorest planning in the world was? Building football stadiums in the Midwest without domes. Even the Cowboys stadium has a dome!” Thresh complained, jumping in place to keep his heart rate up in the frigid locker room.

What a weekend to be playing out. Away locker rooms were notoriously terrible, a long and stupid tradition meant to psych the visiting team out and throw them off their game, and Minnesota’s was no different.

Pretty sure my high school had a better locker room than this shit.

“Suck it up, Texas,” Cato said, giving Thresh’s ass a smack. “Gonna be colder out on the field.”

His eyes roved over to where I was sitting on one of the wood benches and landed. 

“Guess you’ll be sitting pretty though, huh Hawthorne?” He was referring to the fact that Coach said it was too cold to be out on the sidelines, so I’d go up to the suites with Finnick to watch the game from inside. 

“Pays to put yourself before your team.”

“Hope you’re wearing a cup, Davidson. If your dick shrinks any further it’ll crawl up inside of you.” 

Thresh snickered, giving me a high-five as he passed by muttering something about going to find Delly. Finnick tapped my shoulder before I could get into it anymore with Cato, summoning me to go with him while the rest of the team finished getting ready.

Upstairs in the suite was nice. Largely, I assumed this had to do with Finnick, but I was taking whatever I got those days. Behind a row of plush leather chairs was a full kitchen set up, where pizza, wings and soda were stocked for eating. On the large screen off to the side of the window was the pregame show, with live interviews being conducted with both our Coach and Minnesota’s before kick-off. 

Watching Coach talk was like torture. Everytime I heard my name uttered through the screen, I felt another muscle in my body tense up.

“Any ideas on when Gale Hawthorne might return to the field?”

“No, nothing yet,” Coach replied, monotonously. 

“A mid-season suspension of arguably one of the best offensive players in the division was a wildly unpopular call to have made. Still no word has been given about the basis of the suspension, do you have anything to say about that?”

“I don’t think anyone is arguing that Gale Hawthorne has talent. Trust me, I know more than anyone how badly we’re hurting without him and Finnick Odair, but the terms of his suspension go above my head, to the league. We’re working hard to overturn the ruling but...it’s a very difficult position right now.”

“Don’t watch that garbage,” Finnick scolded, coming to sit down next to me with a piece of pizza in one hand and a soda in the other. 

He grabbed the remote from the cup holder I had it hanging out of, poised to switch the station until we heard his name. Immediately he perked up, turning the volume louder to hear what was being said.

“Finnick’s in physical therapy now and I hear it is going very well. We’re optimistic he can return to us for spring or summer training and be back in the fall for a new season.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Keep eating like that and the only position you’ll play next year will be on the offensive line.” 

“Come on, it’s game day,” he said, propping his feet up on the table. “When you’re in the crowd, you’re allowed to cheat.” 

My phone vibrated against the leather interior of the seat with a new message from Madge.

_Madge (6:45pm):_ Heard it’s actually colder in Minnesota than Wisconsin. How is that possible?? Lol.

 **Me (6:46pm):** What? It’s a balmy twenty degrees out and going down to zero by morning. 

_Madge (6:47pm):_ I hope you brought your gloves. It only takes thirty minutes to develop frostbite. Fifteen if it’s windy.

 **Me (6:48pm):** Lol. 

_Madge (6:48pm):_ What ‘lol’? I’m being serious! 

**Me (6:49pm):** I know, it’s funny.

 **Me (6:50pm):** And appreciated.

She sent back an emoji that was sticking its tongue out, making me laugh. Finnick cast a curious look in my direction, but said nothing, turning back to the screen which showed the team entering onto the field in prep for the first quarter.

 **Me (6:55pm):** Finn and I aren’t sitting out on the field. Too cold, they said. So you don’t have to worry about me losing a limb.

“Dude, I’ll throw up if I eat this whole pizza, help me out,” Finnick said, motioning back to it with a tip of his head. 

I stood up to grab a slice just as they started calling the teams to the field. Finnick let out a loud _whoop!_ As our boys made their way out and my phone vibrated twice inside of my pocket. 

_Madge (6:55pm):_ Good. Because I like your limbs ;) 

_Madge (6:56pm):_ That sounded dirty and I didn’t mean for it to. 

I snorted, typing with one hand while the other loaded up a plate.

 **Me (6:56pm):** The winky face didn’t help.

 _Madge (6:57pm):_ God, sorry.

 **Me (6:57pm):** It’s all good. You can talk dirty to me anytime you want.

I could practically picture her on the other end of the phone, staring down at the text with a mixture of mortification and intrigue. Her pupils wide beneath her glasses as she blinked. Christ, she was cute. Felt like an idiot for thinking it, but it was true. Not even a week had passed since we first kissed and no more than an hour had gone by without me thinking of her. 

_Madge (6:58pm):_ Duly noted. 

_Madge (6:59pm):_ Enjoy the game. ;) 

“Dude, you okay over there?”

I flipped my phone over reflexively and turned to Finnick with a mask of confusion.

“I’m fine.”

“Just checking. Not used to seeing you smile, I thought you might be having a stroke.”

I rolled my eyes, coming back to sit down. I adjusted the chair until I was comfortable, figuring that if I was going to be forced to watch a game I couldn’t play in, I might as well make it enjoyable. 

I took a swig of water as they waited down below for the commercial break to end before beginning the game. 

“What’re you doing the day after Thanksgiving?” I asked, to which Finnick gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Nothing.”

“You are now. Madge wants to have a _Friendsgiving._ Whatever the hell that is. Think she made it up.”

“Nah, my sister has one of those, too,” Finnick corrected. 

“Peeta said we could do it at the apartment. Invite some of the guys and stuff. Delly, too.” 

“Sounds cool. I’m in.”

“Neat.”

“So...are you two a thing now?”

“Depends on what you mean by _thing.”_

We’re kissing. Holding hands sometimes, too. 

“Are you dating?”

I mean, it felt like it. I’d had girlfriends before, and I wasn’t sure what more Madge and I could do to make it more official.

Besides the obvious.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“How do you not know?”

Minnesota won the coin toss and both teams retreated to their respective sides of the field for kick-off.

“We haven’t talked about it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Dude, chill,” I said, pushing my hair back out from my eyes. “She knows we’re a thing.”

“I don’t know...” Finnick said, grimacing. “Growing up I heard my fair share of horror stories and dating advice. If Madge is anything like the Odair women--”

“God help us if she’s anything like an Odair,” I interrupted, and Finnick gave my arm a push before continuing. 

“She’s waiting for confirmation.”

The ball flying through the air at kickoff was enough of a distraction to steer Finnick off the topic of Madge Undersee. 

But it didn’t stop my mind from racing the entire night.

* * *

**Me (7:56pm):** We need to talk. 

_Madge (7:57pm):_ Okay...

**Me (7:58pm):** Can you meet me at the student center?

_Madge (7:58pm):_ Oh. You mean like *in person*

**Me (7:59pm):** Yep.

_Madge (8:00pm):_ Okay. See you in twenty?

The student center was void of all the people who normally occupied it during the week, and instead had just a few quiet tenants drinking coffee or studying on their computers.

I stood in line waiting to grab a cup for Madge and I, reviewing the conversation I had with Finnick yesterday on a loop.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Like I’d never asked a girl out before. Like I didn’t already know Madge liked me, too. I still had a lot to prove to her, that much I knew, but the fact was she wanted to try. I think. She wanted to kiss, at least.

She crept up behind me while I was deep in thought, standing on her tiptoes to cover my eyes with her mitted hands.

“Hey stranger,” she smiled when I turned around to face her. “Long time no see. How was Minnesota?”

“Cold as hell.”

“I never understood that expression,” she mused with a raised eyebrow. “Isn’t hell supposed to be hot?”

“Yeah...I don’t really get it either,” I admitted, making her laugh. I smiled tightly, fucking nervous, which just made me feel irritable. The whole thing was stupid. 

“You want a coffee?” I asked, taking a step forward as we grew closer to the front of the line.

“Sure. Iced with just cream, thanks.”

“It’s like...thirty degrees outside.”

“I know, but I’m one of those people that drinks iced coffee year round. I’m too impatient to wait for hot coffee to cool down and inevitably burn myself.”

I snorted, shaking my head which made her smile a little before she shoved her hands down into her jacket pockets and shifted on her feet a little.

“So, I’m trying to play it cool but I have to admit that I was a little nervous when you messaged and said you wanted to talk. Nothing good ever comes from starting a conversation out that way…”

“What am I supposed to say?” I asked, confused. We _did_ need to talk. 

“I don’t know. I want to say you should start it out less cynical, but maybe that’s the tone of the conversation. Maybe--”

“Madge,” I interrupted, because I knew how this went. If I let her start going, she’d spend the next twenty minutes spewing hypotheticals. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. It just wasn’t a conversation that should be had over text.”

“See, that’s not really helping my anxiety in all of this.”

I laughed, and her lips pursed.

“Are you breaking up with me? Because if that’s what this is, you don’t need to buy me a pity coffee--”

“What?” I asked, before she could even finish her sentence. “You think we’re dating?”

Her cheeks tinted red, lips parted. Eyes widened in building mortification.

“Oh, I...yeah, I guess not _technically_ but I sort of thought…”

“Wait, no. That’s not what I meant.” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my head. Fucking Finnick. One more reason to kick his ass. I knew Madge and I were already on the same page.

We were up to order, and the barista stood staring at us until we approached. I mumbled out an order as Madge stood next to me awkwardly and as soon as we stepped off to the side, I grabbed hold of her arm.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, why would I be breaking up with you?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, shutting down. “Maybe it’s too much. You have a lot going on.”

“There’s a lot in my life that’s too much, but you’re not one of those things,” I said with confidence. It was the truth. Her blue eyes softened as she fiddled with a stray strand of her hair.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” she repeated, as though she didn’t quite believe me.

I knew most people didn’t consider me to be boyfriend material, but she didn’t have to look at me like I was a damn alien. 

“Yeah. In my head this whole thing went a lot smoother, but ultimately that’s wha-- _umph!”_ I grunted with the sudden weight of her body as she lunged at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hasty connection of our lips.

She kissed me once, twice, three times before pulling back with a wide smile that couldn’t help being matched.

“So...yes then?”

“Well since you asked so _nicely.”_

* * *

On Thanksgiving day, while the rest of the world slept or prepped for food and football, I froze my ass off downtown in front of the local grocery store, bell in tow. Judging all of the lazy people who waited until the day of to get their shopping done.

“You know, it helps if you smile,” Thresh coached, flashing a charismatic grin at a young mother who was wrestling her toddler into the front of the shopping cart. Just like that, she dropped a few dollars into the tin container and he batted his eyelashes at me.

“See? It works.”

I stuffed one hand down into my pocket, balling it up into fists in an effort to regain circulation before switching. 

“So this thing tomorrow. Am I supposed to be bringing anything?” 

“The hell if I know,” I snorted.

“You’re the host.”

I’d never hosted a thing in my damn life. The title alone sounded so ridiculous in context to me that I could’ve laughed. Parties at the apartment that involved more than ordering food and picking up some beer were out of my wheelhouse.

_Dinner parties_ and _Friendsgiving_? Forget it.

“I’ll ask Madge.”

“Cool. Because if I have to go to the store...now’s the time,” he smirked, nodding back to the building behind us. Yeah, guess that was true. I sent her a quick text and had a response less than a minute later.

_Madge (11:23am):_ Just himself. Peeta and I have the rest covered :)

“She says no. Tell Dell to bring some of the girls from the squad or something.” I figured it might make her more comfortable to have a few girls around. Plus, now that we were dating, it wasn’t a horrible idea to start introducing her around to everyone.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Happy holidays,”_ we said in unison as more people approached.

“Oh shit, a very happy holiday to _me,”_ one of them said back, cheekily winking at the two of us as she passed by, and we couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know, I’m down to see you with a girlfriend,” Thresh said with an agreeing nod.

“I’ve had girlfriends before, you know.”

“Yeah, I know but I can’t picture it. Think it’ll be good for you.” 

“You’re one to talk. You and Delly are so back and forth I’m surprised you don’t have whiplash.” 

Coach was starting to come around to collect the bells, signaling the end of our shift. 

“Yeah, guess we’re both a little fucked up.”

“Boys, how’d you do?” Coach asked, not looking me in the eye as he grabbed our bells. 

“Fine.”

“Good. Happy Thanksgiving, enjoy the rest of the day. See you Saturday morning. Hawthorne, don’t be late.”

“He’s still pissed,” Thresh snickered. 

“Christ, I don’t know how he hasn’t had a heart attack yet,” I muttered, digging my keys out from my back pocket.

“He’ll get over it,” he promised before giving my back a slap. “Alright, kid, I’m off. See you and your lady tomorrow to _Friendsgiving_ it up.” 

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the scent of bacon assaulting me and wondered what wild hair had got up Peeta’s ass that made him decide to cook both for breakfast and dinner later tonight. 

The temptation to roll back over in bed was great. Wasn’t often we got to sleep in, and it was only nine in the morning. Don’t think anyone could judge me for another hour or so. 

But my room was positioned closest to the main living area, and through the thin walls I heard feminine laughter. Madge’s laughter, I was pretty sure.

The contrast between my dark room and the brightly lit apartment made me wince and I rubbed my eyes tiredly as I turned into the kitchen.

Yep, it was Madge. Venturing around the kitchen with ease alongside Peeta, a bundle of enthusiasm and chaos built into one. 

“Look who finally woke up,” she greeted with a wink, bending over into the oven to pull out fresh cinnamon buns. “Although, from the looks of it, just barely.”

“It’s only nine,” I grumbled and Madge glanced up at the clock as though she didn’t believe me.

“Wow, I guess it is. Huh, seems like it should be later. I’ve been up since seven.”

“Why?” I asked, appalled. “I thought _Friendsgiving_ was a dinner thing.”

“It is, but don’t you know how long it takes to cook a turkey?” she asked, coming around to my side of the counter to slip an arm around my waist in greeting. It was nice, actually. Something about the confidence and ease in which she did it made me relax into the embrace. 

“Spoiler alert: all day. So we made breakfast,” she explained before looking up to laugh at what I could only assume was my hair. It was always a mess in the morning. I scooped it back with a hair tie and Peeta plated us each a cinnamon roll while the bacon continued to sizzle.

Suddenly Madge gasped. 

“Wait, it’s nine?”

“Yep.”

“The parade is on.”

“...You want to watch it?” I asked, earning me an incredulous look from her before we moved into the living room. I cued it up, and Madge looked like a child with her excitement as the parade floats started to be advertised coming down the crowded streets. 

“Am I hijacking your morning?” she asked, scraping hardened icing off the bottom of her plate before taking a bite of the pastry. 

“Nah, you’re a much prettier face to wake up to than either of my roommates.”

She laughed, adjusting in closer to me as we watched the parade.

After, when Madge and Peeta were back to work in the kitchen, shooing me away, I went to shower and freshen up for the day. After everything was prepped and cooking, Madge went home to do the same. In the meanwhile, Finnick came home, tossing his bag off to the side dramatically, like he’d been gone weeks rather than merely one night. 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Terribly,” Peeta replied with a smirk. 

“Smells good in here,” he sniffed, eyeing the kitchen where all kinds of delicious things were beginning to pop up freshly cooked and baked. 

A knock sounded at the door, and then Madge had returned with Thom and Darius in tow. She peeled back her jacket to reveal a fitted turtleneck beneath it, one that accentuated every curve on her body and had me unable to look away.

She smoothed her hands over it, before smiling up at me.

“Do I look okay?”

“Incredible.” 

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Hawthorne,” she winked before handing over two bottles of wine with the instruction to _chill_ them before we drank.

“Peeta, how’s our meal coming along?” she asked eagerly. Another knock at the door came, with Delly, Thresh and a few other guys from the team.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Delly grinned, leaning up on her tiptoes to give my cheek a kiss. “I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend, I’ve been grilling Thresh all day about her. Oh, I brought wine. Sorry, couldn’t come empty-handed.”

“What is with you people and wine? What are we, forty?” I joked, taking it from her to put with the other ones Madge brought.

“It’s classy,” Delly explained, trailing in behind me. 

“Beer can be classy,” Thresh argued, earning a truly disgusted look from her.

“It so can _not._ Beer is for frat parties and football games, _wine_ is for holidays. Speaking of fraternities, I tried to wrangle some of the girls from the sorority to come tonight but most of them went home for the break,” Delly lamented. “And did you know Sae’s stays open on Thanksgiving?”

“Do you think we would’ve cooked if we knew that?”

“Peeta? Yes. But I know, it’s crazy. My one girlfriend took the shift because she figured _why not?_ So, she’s working. Sorry. Usually the place is bursting at the seam with girls.”

I knew from experience how true the statement was. It might’ve been for the best Delly came alone, though. Her and Madge were both big talkers, anyone else might not be able to get a word in edgewise.

The night turned out to be more fun than I expected. After dinner and pie, we played dumb games that had everybody howling with laughter and it was almost eleven o’clock before people reluctantly began to trickle out.

“Hey, Dell. Ever heard of a chick named Anabel Cresta?” Finnick asked as everyone began to congregate around the door. 

Her eyebrows furrowed in thought before she gave up with a shake of her head.

“No, I don’t think I know her.”

“Coach signed me up for _ballet_ lessons with her,” he grumbled, embarrassed. “I didn’t know if she was on the dance team or something.” 

“Nope. But that’s cool!”

“‘Cool’ is not the word I would’ve used. But I guess it’s supposed to help with flexibility or whatever.”

“Are you going to be doing splits in the end-zone next year?” I teased, making everyone, including him chuckle.

“Maybe Dell can get you a spot on the dance team,” Thresh added, giving his back a smack.

“Ha-ha, very funny. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m gliding like a gazelle down the field.”

“You’ll be the most graceful quarterback in the division.”

“I'll be the least _injured_ in the division.”

“When do your lessons start?” Delly asked and Finnick gave another groan of annoyance.

“Next week.”

“I’ll ask around and see if any of the girls know her.”

Madge lingered back towards the kitchen with me as everyone continued talking. I saw Thom and Darius collecting their boots and looked down at her curiously.

“Wanna stay?” I asked quietly, while the others were distracted. 

She perked up at the idea, nodding.

“You ready, Madge?” Darius asked, hand twisting the door knob open.

“I’m going to stay a while longer, actually.”

He smiled, nodding his head with approval. There was chaos as everyone said their goodbyes in the doorway, and then the apartment was quiet. 

“I think it’s pretty cool you’re taking dance lessons,” Madge told Finnick as him and Peeta started to clean up.

“I knew I liked you,” he teased her. “Hey, you guys want to watch a movie or something?”

Madge and I cast each other weary looks, ones that tried to decipher the others meaning silently. Sensing her hesitation, and knowing she was not one to readily stay quiet, I spoke up for the both of us.

“Think we’re going to turn in for the night, actually.” 

“Ah, _okay,”_ he said with an eyebrow raise. “Have fun, you two.” 

I led Madge down the hall and shut the door behind me before sighing with relief. When I turned to face her, she was inspecting a framed photo I had of me and the kids last summer.

“They’re all so cute.”

“Vick’s the oldest--the one not smiling,” I said, pointing to him which made her laugh. “That’s Rory, he was sleeping on the couch the night you came to pick me up. And Posy.” 

“She’s a doll.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid. They all are.”

“I always wanted older brothers,” she confided, placing the photo down before hopping up on the bed next to me. “It seemed so fun.” 

“I’m not sure Posy would describe it that way, always. Rory convinced her once that mud tasted like chocolate and fed it to her like pie and I've caught Vick pinning her down before trying to spit in her eye.”

“Oh my god,” Madge laughed. 

“She can hold her own, though,” I promised, with a smirk. “She knows how to get them back.”

“Little sisters usually do,” Madge agreed.

“Let me guess, you’re the younger sibling.”

“Ding, ding, ding!”

“Brat.” 

She grinned, nodding before adjusting a pillow to lean on with a sigh. I cued up something for us to watch, and after a bit of scrolling finally landed on a familiar comedy, one we’d both seen enough times that we could quote our favorite episodes, but didn’t mind re-watching. We laid in comfortable silence as the episode went on, and Madge slowly moved into me until her head was leaning on my shoulder. 

There were no objections made as my arm slipped around her waist, allowing her to come closer until I could feel her body molded to the side of mine. I turned to look down at her and she smiled, slinging an arm over my chest.

“You’re more comfortable than I anticipated,” she said casually.

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

“All the muscle. I would’ve expected you to be rigid.” she sighed, content. “But you’re...warm. It’s nice.”

My hand stroked up and down her side, staying safely within her middle section, not too close to either her ass or chest. But it was impossible to ignore the fact that I could feel her breasts up against me. 

Madge adjusted after a few minutes, unable to sit still, and moved to lay her head down on my lap, which brought my hand to rest over her stomach. 

Her bra must’ve been made of the world’s thinnest fabric, because poking through her shirt were the hard tips of her nipples. They weren’t the only thing that was hard. Jesus, I could feel myself growing, thankful that it was hanging left, against the opposite leg she was laying on. 

I tried to move my hand off of her, grab one of the pillows behind us or something to rest under her head, but she linked hers over the top of mine before I could remove it, resting it back on her stomach a little higher than before.

My fingertips were just inches away from the bottom of her breast, a fact we both seemed well aware of, because Madge’s eyes flitted up to mine, as if daring me to say something about the precarious situation first.

Not happening. 

If anyone was cracking, it was going to be her.

She smiled a little, an action I returned tightly before we both focused back on the television.

A few minutes passed before she crept our linked hands up a little higher.

I inhaled sharply through my nose. Muscles in my hands twitched.

“You okay?” she asked, voice reeking innocence. I ground my teeth together.

“Fine.”

Her hand tightened on mine, causing my fingertips to sink into the flesh over her rib cage. Those hard little points under her shirt teasing the ever loving hell out of me.

“Madge,” I forced out, voice hoarse. So horny I was barely thinking straight. 

“Yes?”

“You should get up.”

Her eyebrows dipped. Hand over mine loosened.

“I should?”

For as innocent as she acted, there was no way she was oblivious to the effect she was having on me. I refused to believe it. She knew what she was doing. 

But I needed her to say it if she wanted it to continue.

“Yeah, I mean--” she was leaning up on her elbows, head tilted up towards me. “I know we’re just hanging out.”

She blinked.

“Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” 

I swallowed hard, mesmerized by her slightly parted lips, before shaking my head in confirmation.

“Just...watching TV.” 

“We don’t _have_ to be only doing that,” she murmured, surprising us both.

“We don’t?”

“I mean...no?” she laughed nervously. 

“You sure?” I needed to hear her say it, because my hands were already shaking with an effort to not touch her.

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” she said with more confidence in her voice. “And you’re not an asshole taking advantage. I’m not ready to have sex tonight but...I think I’ll go insane if you don’t touch me.”

I grabbed hold of her waist, twisting her around to straddle my lap in a single movement that made her gasp before laughing. Her hands snaked around my neck, accepting the kiss I offered as my hands trailed up and down her waist, over the smooth curve of her ass clad in just leggings.

Our tongues met inside of her mouth and her hands tightened their grip on my hair as she moved her hips experimentally above mine. A sound deep within my chest erupted at the friction and when she pulled back to kiss along my jawline, I groaned.

She moved to slip her glasses off and I stopped her with a shake of my head.

“Keep them,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers. “Unless they’re bothering you.”

She smiled shyly before pressing a few chaste kisses against my lips. 

“You’re--” she inhaled, a soft noise that went straight to my groin as I nipped at her lip. “You’re a very good kisser.”

_That’s not all I’m good at._

Everything about Madge was different. Different from the girls I was normally into. Different from the ones I’d previously let in my bed. There was no rushing--no need to when you knew there was more time than just one night. The soft, almost timid sounds falling from her lips were entirely real, nothing forced or rehearsed about them. She wasn’t stuck in her head, concerned with what I wanted or was thinking. Hung up on the fact that I was a Nightlock. 

I was just Gale to her. The dumbass she worked with and somehow ended up here. 

Her hands moved mine further up body again, and when my fingertips caught on the fabric, dragging it up to expose the pale skin of her stomach, she didn’t seem to mind.

Her rhythm on top of me was uneven, needy and she arched into me with a nonverbal request as we continued to make out.

“What do you want?” I asked against her. Had to close my eyes when the head of my dick slid against her thinly covered slit. I was so hard I could feel the blood rushing south, every nerve in my body focused between my legs.

“Your hands,” she gasped. 

“Tell me.” _Say it. Damnit, Madge, just say it and I’ll do whatever you want._

She took hold of the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up over her head in one movement before casting it off to the side. 

Then she was sitting there on my lap in just thin black lace that left nothing up to imagination.

I groaned, drinking her in. Pale flesh turned rosy under my scrutiny and when she pressed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and asked me if I liked it, I could’ve come right there.

“Yes,” I replied, voice deep with arousal. My hands ran over the lacy fabric, causing her back to arch. 

“Me too.”

Her head tilted as I kissed her neck, sucking on the warm skin there while my hands caressed her over the bra. Her nipples poked the center of my palms, teasing me as I moved further down to her clavicle. 

She reached behind herself, fumbling with the hook of her bra before it came loose and fell into the small space between our bodies. I could feel her against me. The way her heart pounded the same way mine did whenever I did something new. 

It was new for her. 

I met her eyes to confirm it was okay, and Madge pressed my hair back, collecting it in her hands behind my head.

"Please?”

How could I say no? My hands cupped over her as I trailed another kiss down between the valley of them. Licked a trail to one of her nipples as she continued to writhe on top of me, and when my lips wrapped around it, her voice caught.

I massaged the other as my tongue traced smooth circles around the erect nub, teasing it before applying light suction. A shiver ran up her spine at the feel of it, and I groaned around her flesh as our hips continued to move against each other. 

She was moving just the right way, too. My cock slid smoothly between her legs, with just enough friction to keep me on the edge as I focused on her. 

_“Gale…”_ the way she moaned my name would be burned into my memory for eternity. Even in the throws of passion, she was a talker. Unable to help the noises falling from her lips despite the fact that Finnick was just on the other side of the wall.

_Who cares?_

She was moving more frantically over the top of me, breathless as her chin rested on the top of my head, hands pulling my hair with force. I felt her body stiffen as her panting increased and then she was shuddering on top of me before going limp.

I looked up from between her breasts with a mixture of confusion and awe.

Did she just…?

“Did you just…” I trailed off in disbelief, hands moving to support her back as I sat up straight and her head fell down on my shoulder.

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “I think so.”

“From…”

“Yeah.” She turned to look at me with a smile and I felt my balls tighten.

 _“Fuck,”_ I groaned, pressing up into her. “That’s so hot.”

“Glad you think so,” she giggled, rolling off the top of me back onto the bed. 

Was it rude to go finish myself off in the bathroom? I debated telling her I needed to shower, but Madge wasn’t an idiot. She’d know. I wished I were strong enough to go back to laying there watching tv with her like nothing had happened, but my cock was so hard it was leaking precum. A not-so-subtle reminder to me with every pulse it wasn’t going anywhere on it’s own.

I was one small move away from joining her and coming all over my pants.

As I sat there conjuring up an excuse, Madge’s hand came to rest on my stomach, inching lower towards the waistband of my shorts. I grunted at the feel of her so close, something I’d thought about so many times before it wasn’t even funny. When she traced the outline through my pants, my hips bucked involuntarily and I swallowed hard.

“Better not, _ah,_ do that. Haven’t done laundry yet this week,” I tried joking. “These are my last clean pair of sweats.”

My stomach muscles contracted when she gave it another experimental rub and looked up at me.

“Then take them off.”

“You said…”

“I’m not ready to have sex tonight,” she repeated, sensing where my mind had gone. “But I’m not going to leave you hanging after I got mine.”

I might’ve loved her.

Her fingers slipped below the waistband and I lifted my hips as she began to tug them down. My cock sprang free, slapping my stomach as it pointed straight up at me. Red and angry in its desperation for attention.

Madge stared down at my lap like it was alien. Her lips parted in a slight ‘o’ and she pushed her hair back behind her ear as she leaned in closer to examine it.

It throbbed with her close proximity and when she traced a finger up one of the thick veins on the underside, a fresh pearl of precum oozed from the tip. I inhaled, shutting my eyes. The unexpected touch almost too much.

“Fascinating,” she murmured, cocking her head to the side. 

I laid there as she explored, gritting my teeth, not wanting to rush her despite the urge to beg her to just _wrap her hand around it_ growing more intense. When she let out a breathless chuckle, I opened an eye to study her.

“What’s funny?” Never a good sign when a chick is laughing at your junk.

“No, nothing. You have a beauty mark here.” Her finger glided over the side of my cock, near the base. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” I asked, incredulously, to which she nodded, completely oblivious as she dragged her fingertips across the turgid flesh again.

“It’s so...big. I know it’s silly but I’m sitting here wondering how it’s going to fit inside of me. I mean, biologically, I _know_ much bigger things come out but--”

“--Madge,” I interrupted, half laughing, half crazed. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Sorry,” she giggled, biting her lip as she adjusted herself more comfortably against me. Her hand slid over me again and I exhaled in ecstasy when she wrapped her full palm around my cock and gave it a firm stroke.

_Fuuuck._

She moved her hand up and down experimentally a few times, studying my reactions to improve her technique. When she gathered the precum from the tip and used it as lube, I couldn’t do anything but nod my head in confirmation. _Yes, that. Do that._

She kissed my neck as her palm worked my flesh and I laid there coming apart the same way she had minutes ago. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so close from a handjob. Not since I was a teenager, fooling around in the woods, probably. 

“Fuck Madge.” I was panting. “Your grip is so tight.”

She loosened it immediately, almost letting go entirely and I mourned the loss instantly.

“No, it’s good,” I corrected, coaxing her back. “So damn good. I’m going to come soon if you keep going…”

“That’s okay,” she whispered, making me laugh a little.

Yeah, I guess that was the whole point.

Her forefinger and thumb stroked beneath the crown in opposite directions, the friction so intense it caused my thighs to shake and I felt the familiar build in my balls.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Madge, I’m coming--” the words barely escaped me before orgasm over took my body, and I was shooting my load onto my stomach. Madge continued to stroke me until I placed a hand over the top of hers, stilling her movements until the quakes of aftershocks had all passed through.

I laid there silently, collecting myself, and when I finally was able to open my eyes and chance a look at Madge, I found her laying there beside me, stroking my hair.

She smiled when I reached out to stroke her cheek, sinking into the touch.

“You okay?” I asked, voice still gruff.

She stared up at me, a little timid but not scared. Not disappointed, I didn't think.

“I’m fantastic.” 

“Good. Okay. I need to clean up but I’ll be quick. Stay...I mean, if you want. You can. You don’t have to leave.”

"Okay. Can I borrow a shirt?"

She made herself more comfortable on my bed as I maneuvered myself off without leaving…anything behind. 

“Have I ever told you you have a fantastic ass?” she called as I wiped myself off with a tissue and pulled up my pants so I could go down the hall to finish.

I looked over my shoulder to see her teasing expression and couldn’t help smirking.

“Are you objectifying me?” I asked, tossing her one of my many _Nightlock Football_ t-shirts.

She pinched her fingers close together, the universal sign for _a little,_ and laughed when I rolled my eyes.

“Fucking unbelievable.”

Madge had my shirt on by the time I returned, choosing to forgo the bra that laid out on the floor still as she climbed down beneath the covers, pulling them open for me to get beneath too.

“So will Peeta make me breakfast in the morning?” she quipped, jest evident in her tone. “Cressida told me that's how it goes and I expect the full red carpet treatment, Hawthorne.”

Jesus, Cressida. I hadn’t thought about her since the summer. 

Even though it was obvious she was joking, I didn’t like the idea of Madge thinking she was like any other girl in my past. What we’d done might’ve been light foreplay before the real action to me six months ago, but it was everything to her.

And already she was beginning to feel like everything to me.

I kissed her forehead before wrapping an arm around her, cuing up the forgotten Netflix from earlier.

_“I’ll_ make you breakfast.”

I couldn’t see her smile, but I felt the way she snuggled in closer and the arm wrapped around me pulled tighter.

“I knew it.”

“...Knew what?”

“You’re a big old softy, Gale Hawthorne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we feeling, friends? Happy? No angst! Lol! 
> 
> It was totally a coincidence that I posted this chapter on the 18th of November (which if you didn't notice, is the start date of the chapter, lol). Happy early Thanksgiving to all my friends who celebrate. I hope to have another chapter out before the holiday, but time is a crazy thing lately, so I can't make any promises. I hope you're all staying healthy, wearing masks and taking care of yourselves.
> 
> Until next time, xoxo.


	12. December 13-15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mentions of past child abuse and trauma.

* * *

_I'm at peace in the dark, when I know that you're near._

_Hear the breath of your heart singing me a lullaby._

-Carly Rae Jepsen

* * *

Our season ended the weekend after Thanksgiving. Something that, as Coach eagerly reminded us, hadn’t happened for the past ten years.

_ “Embarrassing,” _ he’d spat in the locker room after the game ended 38-28.  _ “Absolutely embarrassing. I’m not going to sit here and hold your hands saying you tried your best when you damn well didn’t. There was more bullshit going on this year than I know what to do with.” _

__ I was staring down at the ground as he shouted, but felt several pairs of eyes trained on me. As if I were single-handedly responsible for them sucking. I owned the part I had in our team's failure, but I could only do so much. Can’t keep people from dropping balls. Can’t make them block offense. Finnick said I should be flattered by their irritation, that it meant they knew how valuable a player I was. But, that wasn’t the way it felt. 

_ “I’ll tell you what I am going to do. Train your asses twice as hard as we went last year. There will be twice as many drills, twice as many plays, twice as many practices in the coming spring and summer. I hope you boys enjoy the holidays because if you come back afterwards, it’s going to be hell. But next year, we’re going to win.” _

Despite the harsh promise in his words, a chorus of agreeing cheers erupted throughout the locker room. None of us liked losing.

The season ending early wasn’t all bad, though. The break from a game schedule and practices gave everyone more free time to focus on the end of semester which was fast approaching. Gave me more time to work. More time with Madge, too. 

Between the end of the semester approaching and the holidays, she’d been picking up more hours volunteering at the hospital but it felt like most of the spare time we had was spent together.

Usually making out.

Madge...was kind of a freak. She straddled me with the kind of ease that only came with practice and moaned against my skin. Tongue swirling around the base of my neck, nipping at the skin before sucking it in past her lips soothingly.

“You sure you’re a virgin?” I asked breathlessly, hands glued to her hips as she rocked above me. 

“Last I checked,” she chuckled before her lips twisted up slyly at me. “Although...maybe not for long.”

I swallowed hard.

“There’s no rush.” 

Who the fuck had I turned into? Generally, I liked to think of myself as a good guy and all but this level of etiquette was beyond me. I wasn’t in the business of pressuring women or anything but if one was ready and willing, green light flashing, I wasn’t the guy who stopped to ask  _ you sure? _

__ Madge smiled at me in a way that made her freckled nose wrinkle before she leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose.

“I know there’s not. I’m just saying...soon maybe.”

“What? Have you got it marked in your planner?” I taunted as she rolled off the top of me, smoothing out her hair.

“Maybe.”

“Let me guess... _ Valentine’s Day _ .” 

Madge whipped around with a start, eyes wide. 

“It’s not even January,” she accused incredulously. “You think that’s  _ soon?”  _

“Jesus, I don’t know. It’s all relative.”

“Well, I was thinking sooner,” she winked, twisting to walk towards the door. 

I groaned, falling back onto the bed with hands over my eyes. Such a fucking tease.

“Where are you going?” I asked, wondering if there was any chance at all her  _ soon _ happened before sun down.

“Home. I need to study for finals.”

“You can study here.”

“You and I both know that won’t happen,” she snickered, collecting her things. “You’re far too dangerous to be around.”

I stood up with a sigh, following her out into the main area of the apartment where both Peeta and Finnick were hanging out. 

Madge snagged a few grapes from Finnick’s bowl with a cheeky smile before popping one into her mouth.

“How are your dance lessons going, Finn?” she asked, and both Peeta and I groaned.

“Don’t get him started on that shit.”

_ “Terrible,”  _ Finnick answered, ignoring us. “Thank you for asking, Madge. At least someone cares.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not a dancer, that’s what’s wrong,” he scoffed. “And the chick that’s supposed to be helping just keeps accusing me of not taking it seriously enough.” 

“Well, why does she think that?”

“Because he’s not,” I answered, and Madge gave my chest a smack without breaking eye contact with Finnick.

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do.”

“Look, I get what Coach is trying to do with these ballet lessons and everything but she’s so serious about it, it sucks all the fun out. I feel like if I make one mistake she’s going to pull the stick out of her ass and whack me with it.”

“Do you always get frustrated when you don’t naturally excel at something?” Madge asked, making both Peeta and I crack up.

“No, I don’t mean that rudely,” she amended, sitting down in one of the bar stools across from Finnick. “Just that, I’m sort of like that too. I remember when I was a kid, my parents put my sister and I in piano lessons. Elisabeth was a natural. She moved into advanced lessons after just one year...me, not so much. Seeing my sister exceed only made me more irritated and I begged my parents to let me quit.”

“So you’re saying I should ask Coach to let me quit the lessons?” Finnick said, hopeful, deflating when Madge gave a firm shake of her head.

“Nice try, but no. I didn’t quit, and now I’m really pretty good at the piano. Probably not as good as my sister but, good. And I enjoy it.”

“Thanks but I’m not looking to become a master ballerina.”

“Of course not, but...what’s your tutor’s name again?” 

“Anabel.”

“Anabel is the master ballerina,” Madge said, patting Finnick’s shoulder. “But if you keep going you’ll probably get good and maybe even enjoy it. If nothing else, it’ll help with your football.”

“I guess,” he grunted.

“I didn’t know you played piano,” I said to Madge, and she turned to me with a sly look before bumping her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

“I’m full of surprises. Very good with my hands,” she teased, wiggling her fingers.

“I bet you are,” Finnick countered, making her blush and me scowl.

She jumped down from the bar stool, flustered, and leaned up on her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“Alright, I really do need to get going or I’ll never study. Finnick, hang in there. I’ll see you guys later.” Her fingers laced with mine, giving them a squeeze before pulling apart. “Talk to you later.”

I felt the heat of Peeta and Finnick’s eyes on the back of my head until the door shut.

“So, tell us Gale, just how good  _ is _ she with her hands?” 

“Shut up.”

“Clearly she’s good with her tongue…”

“What are you talking about?”

I turned to Peeta, knowing I’d get a straight answer out of him, but even he looked amused. He motioned to my neck with a tip of his chin.

“You got hickeys, dude.”

I brought a hand up to my neck instinctively, as if there was anything to actually feel there, and Finnick busted out laughing. I gave his shoulder a shove on my way to the bathroom.

“Don’t you have pliés or something to practice?” 

Like a five year old, he trailed behind me blowing kisses until I slammed the door shut in his face. 

* * *

Why was it that people seemed to get ten times more grouchy in the weeks leading up to Christmas? For a holiday all about  _ good cheer _ and  _ glad tidings _ there seemed to be a lot of car horns blaring and assholes picking fights over stuffed animals in stores.

I braved the toy store begrudgingly, weeding through the thick masses of people that all decided to go shopping at the exact same day and time as me. I could barely hear Hazelle on the other end of the phone with all of the noise.

“Can’t I just give you some money and you pick out presents for me?” I grumbled, nearly getting knocked down by a kid with a foam sword. 

“No,” she said firmly on the other end. “It’ll mean more to them if it actually comes from you.”

“That’s the beauty of it...they don’t have to know.”

“Let me rephrase--it’ll mean more to  _ you _ if it comes directly from you. You’ll feel better about the looks on their faces knowing you found something special for them.”

“Fine,” I muttered, picking up a Barbie doll in inspection. “What am I looking for?”

“Posy is very into _Hatchimals_ right now.”

“What the hell is a _Hatchimal?_ ” 

“Language,” she chastised. “It’s a...well, to tell you the truth I don’t really know how to describe them. They come in an egg?”

“What is  _ they?” _

__ “Animals? Baby dolls? A lot of things. Just look for an egg.”

“Alright, fine,” I said, putting  _ Rainbow Princess Sparkle _ whatever Barbie back on the shelf. “And the boys?”

She told me about how Rory had been eyeing a chess set and Vick had mentioned some robo-dog that you controlled with a remote. With the help of a teenage sales clerk who looked like she’d rather gouge her eyes out than be there, I collected the goods and checked out. Just as I was paying, my phone buzzed with a new message from Coach of all people.

It made me pause, because I had no idea what the hell he wanted.

I waited until I was back in my car to check it and instinctively my heartrate picked up.

_ Coach (7:25pm):  _ I need to see you tomorrow, Hawthorne. What time works?

**Me (7:38pm):** The afternoon.

_ Coach (7:40pm):  _ Come around three, then. 

I fought the urge to reply back with something sarcastic like  _ can’t wait! _ And instead looked through the other messages that had collected in my inbox during my trip.

One from Madge, asking if I wanted to go over and hang out.

**Me (7:45pm):** Yeah, I can be there in twenty.

_ Madge (7:46pm):  _ Okay. Bring cheese curds?

**Me (7:47pm):** Cheese curds? Really? 

_ Madge (7:48pm):  _ I’m craving them.

I swung by a drive-thru and picked up two burgers--I was fucking starving--and the cheese curds for Madge. By the time I arrived at her apartment, one of the sandwiches was already polished off and I was halfway finished with the next. 

She accepted the bag eagerly when I held it out to her and twisted on her heels back over to the table.

“I know cheese curds are disgusting but they taste _ so good,”  _ she groaned, popping one into her mouth. I laughed and when she craned her neck up, the way she did I was finding out when she wanted a kiss, I pretended that she was too smelly to kiss.

“You smell like old cheese now.”

“Shut up,” she giggled, pushing me away, then immediately pulling me back in by my t-shirt. “Don’t make me ask again.”

I kissed her and she hummed appreciatively against my lips before finishing her snack. We went into her bedroom afterwards, because Darius had come home with Thom and started watching a movie in the living room.

Madge sat cross legged on her bed, tapping a pen against the edge of her notebook as she studied for an upcoming test. I couldn’t stop pacing the length of her bedroom, wondering what Coach wanted to talk to me about now. 

The season was over. We’d already lost. What more could he possibly need to ream me out for? A sinking part of me expected him to tell me I still needed to quit Hoffman’s, despite the season being over and I really didn’t know what I was going to do if he said that. 

Madge stopped tapping her pen. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“Come here,” she said, patting the spot beside her. I sat down on the edge of her bed and felt her piercing gaze on me from my peripheral. 

“You’re acting strange.”

“It’s nothing,” I promised with a shake of my head. “Just...football stuff.”

“Hmm.”

She was quiet a long moment, back to studying I assumed, and I rested my head into the palm of my hands with a deep sigh. 

Arms wrapped themselves around my neck from behind, and the warmth of her body pressed against my back. Her breath fanned across my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms as she placed a soft kiss along it.

“You’re so tense.”

“Less so now,” I murmured, closing my eyes, unable to help but sink into the touch. 

“Hmm. Good.” She kissed the side of my face, hands running down my chest teasingly, grazing my nipples, my contracting stomach, down to the edge of the material where she started to pull it up.

“What are you doing?” I snickered, not at all objecting as she lifted it higher to expose my stomach.

“Helping you  _ relax,”  _ she promised, voice tantalizing and soft. So sexy. 

I leaned forward to remove the shirt completely, discarding it off to the side of her bedroom before laying down flat on the bed.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I teased, adjusting to get comfortable as she crawled off the bed over to her dresser. 

“You? I’m the one who gets to slather Panem’s most eligible bachelor with lotion. Think I’m winning this evening.”

“That’s Finnick,” I snickered, closing my eyes. “Though I’m sure with one phone call I could get him over here if you preferred.”

“No thanks,” she chimed, hitching a leg over my hips to rest on top of my ass. “I’m quite satisfied…”

Her sentence trailed off, leaving a stretch of uncomfortable silence in its place. When I chanced a look over my shoulder, I saw her eyes fixed on my back. She swallowed thickly before they flitted up to meet mine and she pointed a finger in its direction.

“...Your dad?” she guessed, so quietly her voice was barely audible.

It was easy to forget about the thick gnashes and scars that painted my back most of the time. Out of sight, out of mind. But then someone would see them and inevitably ask what the fuck I did to destroy my back so badly. Or I’d get an itch and the raised, shiny skin would catch on my fingers.

It was easy with the guys. Typically, a quick dismissive response was enough to shut them up. If not, a joke about rough sex with a crazy jersey chaser did the trick. But Madge was too smart to fall for any of that shit. And she was probably the one person I didn’t want to lie about it to. 

“Yeah,” I muttered. Mood effectively  _ killed. _

“Why?”

I could imagine it was difficult for her to comprehend. She grew up in a stable house with good parents who provided a well-adjusted childhood for her. The norm. Or maybe even above the norm. Clearly, she wasn’t comfortable discussing her family’s finances, but it was no secret they weren’t hurting for money. She was well educated. Debt free. On her way to becoming a doctor.

Loved.

We were born on different sides of the coin. 

It was easier to talk about it without us being face to face. With her still laying on top of me, and me staring at the wall, the words came out easier.

“I don’t really remember,” I admitted. It was true. If I recalled every single time I was smacked around, I doubted I’d be able to function. After a while, each altercation blended into the next. One continuous string that I tried my best to overlook. It didn’t mean the memories never came back. Usually in dreams or because of an odd trigger that even I didn’t fully understand. A smell. A vaguely familiar place. But for the most part, it was difficult these days to distinguish one situation from another. 

Her fingers traced across my back delicately, as if the wounds were fresh and the slightest touch would upset them.

“Did you ever get help?” she asked. “Before your grandma, I mean. Like, the police o-or CPS?”

“Nah.” I sighed deeply, and her body above mine rose and fell with the breath. “I heard horror stories about situations worse than anything we went through in foster care. At least the kids and I still had each other. Didn’t want to be split up from them.”

“But you wouldn’t have been,” she insisted. “They wouldn’t have split up siblings.”

“No guarantees. You go where they have space for you. Besides that, the only two fully related to each other are Rory and Posy. Vick and I have different dads.” I shrugged. “Couldn’t risk it. They were too young.” 

Not to mention the overwhelming anxiety that came with the thought of someone  _ not _ coming for us. And the punishment that would ensue as a result of blowing the whistle. 

Madge rolled off the top of me and positioned herself on the bed so that she was laying down beside me. She rested her head down on the soft comforter, looking up at me with bright blue eyes. 

“Can I ask how your grandma ended up with custody?” The question was hesitant, probably because of the last time she tried inquiring about my past in the car. It wasn’t a topic I liked discussing, no. But, I understood the importance of it for her. I could try.

“Cops showed up with a warrant to search the house for drugs. I’m not sure who tipped them off, a neighbor? A pissed off customer? Doesn’t matter. When they showed up, no one was home but me and the kids. I was old enough that at first, they assumed I was involved somehow.”

“How old?” 

“Sixteen. Almost seventeen.”

“That was only like three years ago,” she gaped, raising her head up. I nodded. 

_ Only three years. _ Sometimes it was hard to believe because it felt like so much longer ago. So much has happened in the past three years. Still, other times it felt like I’d wake up and be back in Chicago. Back in that fucking trailer.

“Anyways, they cuffed me. Put me in the back of their cruiser. The kids were freaking out. I told them to tell the police to call Hazelle-- um, my grandma-- because I had no idea what the hell was going to happen and I didn’t want them staying the night with a stranger. When Hazelle got there, she straightened everything out for me. Took all four of us back to Waukesha with her. Police searched for my mom a few days before finding her strung out at some dude’s house. She was arrested and since none of the kid’s dads were around, Hazelle got full custody.”

Madge traced my wrists with her fingertips absently, as though the cuffs were still on them. 

“Of all of you?”

“Vick, Rory and Posy.” The ones that mattered. “I stayed with her most of the time.” 

“Christ…” 

“Yep,” I sighed, looking down to pick something invisible off the bedspread. Feeling awkward now that it was all out there in the open. The last thing I wanted from anyone, least of all Madge, was pity. I knew the looks well. Had seen them my whole life. Wide eyes and quivering lips. Comforting hands. The  _ I’m sorry’s,  _ like they had anything to do with it.

It surprised me though, when her hand squeezed in mine and I saw a careful smile on her lips as I looked up.

“It explains a lot.”

“...Does it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, the reason you are the way you are. Brave, selfless. You put people ahead of yourself to a fault. You’re a generous soul.”

I scoffed at the accusation and she pressed a piece of my hair behind my ear. 

“The kind of guy who shows up with soup when you’re sick and braids his little sister’s hair,” she continued. “I knew your tough exterior was just a shell but I didn’t understand why. It’s because you needed it to survive.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes it was,” she argued, lips pursed. “We don’t need to act, Gale. Not with each other.”

She twisted to face me more, fingers pushing a long piece of hair back behind my ear as she smiled hesitantly.

“We’re both a little fucked up but it’s got to get better, right? We have each other now?”

I leaned in to kiss her, snaking my hand through her hair to make it last longer. Madge sunk into the touch, leaning further back into the bed and bringing me over her.

“Yes,” I answered when we parted for a breath before bending down again to take her in my mouth. 

Her tongue traced around me expertly. Like despite her lack of experience she knew exactly what she was doing. The feeling of her hands rubbing up and down my back, leg hitching over my hips was intoxicating. She left me craving more.

My hips rocked into hers slowly, unable to help themselves as she bit down on my lower lip. I groaned into her mouth, hand sliding around her hip, beneath her shirt to rub her bare skin. She leaned into the touch, growing more desperate. The anticipation was rising to stifling levels just as my phone began to ring on the bedside table.

She broke apart with a groan of irritation, but I pulled her back in just as quickly.

“Ignore it.”

Whoever it was, they could fuck off.

When it rang again, I practically growled, debating the pros and cons of throwing it against the wall.

“Answer it,” she giggled.

I reached over her irritatedly to look at it, surprised to see it was Peeta calling. 

“Yep?” I asked, voice more hoarse than normal.

“Are you at the apartment?”

“No. I’m with Madge.”

“Oh, sorry. Some people are going to the holiday festival downtown. Do you guys want to come?”

I knew my answer already. Trudge around Panem in the cold or make out with Madge in her warm bed? The answer was a no brainer.

Still, I had a feeling…

I turned to Madge, who was patiently waiting, trying not to listen to the conversation.

“You want to go to the holiday festival?”

“A festival?” she perked right up. Fucking knew it. “Will there be lights?  _ Ohh,  _ is there going to be gingerbread?”

“I have no idea. Never been.”

“Yes, let’s go!” 

Peeta laughed through the receiver, obviously overhearing Madge. She grabbed the phone out of my hand and held it up to her ear.

“Peeta, can you ask Finnick to invite Anabel?”

Through the phone, I could hear Finnick’s loud  _ no! _ in the background, and Madge snickered.

“Put him on?” she was silent a moment before, “Finnick? I think it would be a good bonding opportunity for you and Anabel to hang out outside of lessons.”

She let out a couple  _ mhm’s  _ and  _ uh-huh’s,  _ listening intently to him while unconsciously picking one of her long blonde hairs off my sweater.

“You’ll do it for me, then? I want to meet her.” 

He said something else that made Madge smile before hanging the phone up, handing it back to me.

“Seven o’clock.”

“What’d he say?” I asked.

“Finnick? He’s going to ask her to come with us,” she beamed, before dropping her voice in a poor imitation of Finnick,  _ “But don’t be surprised if she tells me to go fuck myself.” _

I laughed and Madge jumped off the bed to go get ready.

“How do you do that?” I asked when her back was to me, rooting through her closet. 

“What?” 

“Manage to wrap everyone around your finger?”

“It’s a gift.” 

“So, if we have until seven, why are you getting ready now?” I asked, and when she twisted to look over her shoulder at me, a wicked smile painted her lips.

“Oh? Do you have a better idea?”

“I can think of a few.”

She came back over to the bed and crawled onto my lap, winding her arms around my neck.

“Show me.”

* * *

Despite this whole thing being Peeta’s idea, Madge and I were the first to arrive downtown at the festival. Streets that stretched on for miles were decorated with festive lights, wreaths and trees that became more intricate the further in you went. 

“I have to admit, I love the smell of Christmas,” Madge said, inhaling deeply as we walked through the beginnings of the festival. “Everything smells like peppermint.”

“How can you smell anything through all your layers?” The scarf wrapped around her neck practically covered her face.

“Oh, look!” she gasped, pointing across the road to a pathway of ice sculptures. She linked one mitted hand in mine, practically pulling me over to see them up closer. Her eyes sparkled underneath the bright archway of string lights as she walked through, studying each piece.

“It’s so gorgeous,” she said with awe. When she caught me staring, her eyebrows dipped in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, weirdo.” She smirked before the sound of our names being called turned our attention back towards the main hub of the festival.

Finnick, Peeta, Thresh and a girl I could only assume was Finnick’s ballerina approached. The girl was tall and slim, so slim that the button up coat she wore hung off of her body, void of any curve. Dark hair was tied off to the side, resting down one shoulder in a ponytail, hidden beneath a hat.

“How is this my second year in Wisconsin and I didn’t know this existed?” Madge asked the group accusingly as we grew closer. 

“Because, you only hang out with coasties like yourself,” Finnick smirked. “I bet there’s a ton of things you’ve never seen hidden right under your nose.”

“Well, now I’ve got you and Gale to show me around, so don’t disappoint,” she teased, pointing a finger at him before turning her attention to the girl. “Hi, you must be Anabel. I’m Madge, this is Gale.”

I waved dutifully as Anabel extended a hand out for greeting. 

“Annie,” she corrected with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“I love your beret. Very festive.” 

“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, touching it as if she’d forgotten it was on her head. “I made it.” 

“Wow, really?” Madge beamed, reaching out to touch it and only stopping at the last moment to seek permission. Annie chuckled before nodding and Madge continued to gush over her work.

“I have to get you to teach me how to do that. I think the past five winters I’ve told myself that I was going to learn how to knit and still I have no clue.” 

“This is crochet, actually. It’s a bit easier, especially for a beginner.”

“You’re very artistic, between the knitting and dance…”

“Wow, I guess Finnick has been talking about me.” Sheshe smiled slyly, and it wasn’t often that I saw Finnick Odair flustered by women, but the blank look on his face was priceless.

“No, I wasn’t. Just that you’re my dance...person.” 

“Teacher?” Madge supplied, and Finnick’s eyes narrowed.

“Whatever.” 

Both girls chuckled and Madge took hold of Annie’s arm, like they were lifelong friends. “Maybe you could teach me to crochet a blue one? That’s my favorite color. I know it wouldn’t match a whole lot, but I’m okay with that…” 

Their conversation trailed off as they wandered a few paces ahead of us and I turned to Finnick with mock irritation.

“Your girlfriend just stole my girlfriend.”

“One, she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my  _ teacher _ . It’s a business transaction. Two, I’m pretty sure she can’t stand me. Three--”

“My god, it was a joke.”

_ “Your _ girlfriend invited her. So technically, she’s her headache.”

We stopped at a food stand, where Madge and I split a frozen hot chocolate. Despite the weird concept, it tasted pretty good. Like a milkshake. I noticed the way her body would unconsciously shiver after every sip and slung a casual arm around her shoulder, which she sunk into.

“Thresh, where’s Delly?” she asked, after warming up some. “I thought she’d come tonight, too.” 

At the awkward silence that followed, Madge looked between me, and Peeta who was shaking his head subtly at her. Guess I forgot to mention that…

“Sore subject,” Peeta mumbled and Madge’s cheeks flushed.

“We broke up,” Thresh muttered, hands stuffed down into his pockets.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Madge winced. “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be too heartbroken over it,” Finnick said, giving Thresh’s back a firm smack. “In another week you two will be back together again.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, because he had a point, and Thresh rolled his eyes before saying something about going to get french fries. Annie was sitting at the edge of one of the wood tables, nursing a bowl of soup when Madge turned the attention back to her.

“When did you start dancing, Annie?”

“When I was two.”

“Wow. I was barely walking at two,” she teased, making Annie laugh.

“That doesn’t count,” Finnick scoffed from across the table, leaning back in a cool display of indifference. “You couldn’t have been doing more than hopping around in a tutu.”

“That’s about the level you’re at now, Finn, isn’t it?” I asked and he snarled. 

“True,” Annie agreed seemingly easily with Finnick. “I wasn’t performing in Swan Lake or anything. That wasn’t until I was eight.”

“Oh shit,” Thresh snickered. 

“Probably just about the time you joined the _ peewee  _ league, wouldn’t you say, Finnick?”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

“Just about.”

Annie smiled politely before taking another bite of her soup and I had to admit I didn’t mind her being around too much. Anyone who could bust Finnick’s balls as easily as he did everybody else was good enough for me.

Madge seemed to have taken a liking to her, too. They chatted and Finnick sulked until everyone was done eating and we went to walk around some more.

I had to admit that it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to have come. Pretty cool, actually. There were carnival style games and prizes at one end, a designated sledding area down by another. We stayed until it was closing down and then stopped out front to take a group picture at the insistence of Madge.

“Hanukkah starts tomorrow,” she said, flipping through the dozen or so snapshots on her phone as we walked to my car. “It’s hard not being home with my family to celebrate. I want them to know I’m okay and still having fun.”

We climbed in and I cranked the heat to allow the car and our frozen limbs time to heat up. 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, turning to face me in the passenger's seat. “I know you weren’t really into it, but I’m glad we did it.”

“Me too,” I said, and it was the truth. I’d had a lot more fun than I anticipated.

“This sort of felt like being in New York,” she said, leaning back into the seat. “All the lights and happy people. Far more fun than staying in and studying.”

“Who said we would’ve been studying?” I joked, forcing a crack of a smile out of her. “I’m sorry you’re missing out on celebrating with your family, though. That sucks.”

“I’ll be home after finals,” she said with an indifferent shrug. “Hanukkah will be over by then, but we will do some celebrating still.” 

“What do you do?” 

“Well, each night we light a candle on the menorah and say a prayer. Then, my grandma usually gets everybody singing and my sister or I will accompany on the piano. A personal family tradition usually involves saying one thing we’re grateful for, too. And my grandparents always end up telling the story of how they met--it gets more dramatic each year, I swear.” 

We laughed, and she shook her head in amusement. 

“Oh, another tradition is the dreidel, which I’m sure you’ve heard of.” She pushed a piece of her hair back, momentarily stopping to admire a particularly pretty display. “It’s usually a kid game...but my sister and I still play for chocolate. Sometimes her husband, too. I think it makes my mom happy that we do. Like for a minute she can pretend we hadn’t grown up yet.” 

I could understand that. It was sort of like how Posy, despite everything, still believed in Santa Claus. I’d never really cared much for Christmas. Growing up, it was just a stark reminder for the kids--mainly Rory and Vick--that no matter how much magic and folklore and happiness the season produced, their life still sucked. It was better now. I wasn’t even entirely sure how much of it all Rory remembered at this point. But it was hard to push away the thought that the holiday wasn’t still tainted. Little things like Posy writing letters to Santa Claus still helped.

The way Madge talked so wistfully about her family and the holidays made something in her eyes twinkle before sadness replaced them. I imagined it was hard, being so far from home when you were so close with your family. The fact she’d be home in a few weeks did little to help with the homesickness she was experiencing now.

I racked my brain for something to say, but came up empty. But maybe there was something I could do to help still.

I just had to think on it.

* * *

I half expected the reason I was called to Coach’s office to be that he wanted to tell me I wasn’t welcome to come back next year. That or something equally as terrible. It was never good getting called up to meet with him.

I coasted through the rest of class, barely paying attention, mind anticipating the conversation that would be had once I got there. 

It was strange being at the stadium when no one else was. Without the roar of the crowd echoing through the cement walls or the bustling action happening in the locker room pregame or after a practice.

My footsteps  echoed  in the emptiness as I jogged the steps leading up to the second floor where Coach’s office was. As expected, he was inside with the door cracked open, sitting at his desk in front of a large computer screen.

I knocked as a formality, and he immediately beckoned me in to sit down.

“How’s everything been going for you?” he asked after I’d settled in, and I felt my eyes shift awkwardly. Knowing that couldn’t possibly be why he called for me so urgently.

“Fine, I guess,” I answered slowly. “I mean, it’s been better.”

“You had a rough semester.”

“You could say that.”

“Can we have an honest conversation with one another? Man to man?”

I shrugged.

“It’s only going to work if you talk to me, Hawthorne.”

“Talk about what?”

He sighed, staring at me for a long moment, hands crossed and folded over his desk.

“About this job of yours. I’ve got some questions.”

I inhaled deeply, running a hand over my head before falling back into my chair.

“...Alright.”

“Now, I’m not an idiot. I know how tough it can be, being a college athlete without a job. I used to play ball myself.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I know it’s bullshit you’re expected to perform like pro-athletes without any of the monetary benefit.”

“Yes sir.”

“I just wish you had come to me when you were having financial troubles. I could’ve helped you sort it out.” 

I scoffed, shaking my head. Biting my tongue to keep from asking how exactly he planned to help me out when offering me a single cent of money violated the terms of the NCAA and could get him fired. It was a situation I highly doubted he could get himself into over me. He could rant and rave all he wanted about how he used to be a football player in college, but that was decades ago, removed from the memory. All that was left was the shiny, glory-filled haze of it all. That and his office full of trophies and expensive shit. A red Maserati in the parking lot and a Rolex around his wrist. 

“What? You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“That’s always been your problem. You’re too self-reliant. It’s good to an extent, but you always take it too damn far. Won’t trust your teammates, won’t trust your coach. What am I supposed to do with that? You might have raw talent, I won’t deny you that, but raw talent only gets you so far. Football isn’t a one man sport.”

“I know how to leave personal shit off the field.”

“No, you don’t. Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Look, I know I’m expected to eat, sleep and breathe football. I’m trying! But I can’t just ignore the fact that without Hoffman’s I’d be sleeping in a tent on the field. Nobody’s going to pay the rent, pay my bills for me. I don’t have rich parents to go cry to.”

“That wasn’t my situation either, son. I know it’s easy to think that, when you see so many of your teammates come from privilege, but you need to remember that’s not everyone’s story. It’s not an excuse either. There are other ways.”

“What other ways?”

Coach slid a long manila folder across the desk towards me, motioning to it when I didn’t immediately reach out to take it. Hesitantly, I picked it up and opened its contents, where several papers came free.

I scanned through them quickly, unsure if I was fully understanding what I was looking at.

“...What are…?”

“Scholarships. Awarded to the best college athletes around the country. I was able to get you three.”

My eyes moved from the papers back up to Coach, and then down again in disbelief.

“What does that mean?”

“It means each year until you graduate, so long as you maintain a good academic standing and on the football team, you’ll receive the amounts written there. Should be enough to cover your expenses…”

And  _ more. _

“Is this like a loan?” I asked, unsure if the question was stupid or not. I’d never had a scholarship. Never seen that amount of money presented to me wrapped up like a gift without some sort of catch. I held my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No, it’s not a loan. It’s like a gift. And you know, if you wrote a few essays you could apply for even more.”

More? The idea felt selfish, staring at the amount before me. I held onto the envelope tight and swallowed.

“Sir, I can’t--”

“Stop,” he said, holding a hand up. “There it is again. Self-reliance. I know you’re a proud person, Gale and that you don’t like accepting help but I didn’t do anything but submit the applications.  _ You _ did this. It was your skill that earned them. So you can and  _ will _ accept them.”

His stern face lifted slightly, the barest of smiles playing on his lips.

“So I can put your ass back on my team next year.”

I stood up before I barely registered it and Coach did the same, seeming to interpret what I was doing. When I wrapped my arms around him, he returned the hug with ease, giving my back a few firm smacks before we pulled away.

“Just call me Santa Claus,” he muttered.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Quit the job so we can win next year.”

I nodded in understanding.

“Yes sir.”

* * *

I went to Madge’s apartment straight from my meeting with Coach. She was buried to the knees in holiday decorations, pulling items out of boxes and re-figuring the entire living room. 

“I brought you something.”

“You did?” She beamed, excitement almost embarrassing as I scratched the back of my head.

“Yeah, I mean it’s nothing much.”

“Can I open it?”she asked, eyes drifting down to the small gift bag. Not sure why I even bothered to wrap it up…

“Sure,” I grumbled, handing it over. Madge looked up at me one more time, small smile playing on her lips before she pulled the tissue paper out the top of the bag and peered inside.

She gasped, pulling the small wood dreidel free to admire it.

“It’s stupid,”I muttered. “And the most obvious Hanukkah gift. But, I wasn’t sure what you were supposed to get someone for Hanukkah and the other night you were saying about you and your sister playing…”

“You’re sounding like me now,” she teased as my words trailed off, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss my nose.

“It’s perfect. I can teach you how to play, if you want. Your timing was good, actually. I need someone tall enough to reach the top of the windowsill to put tinsel up.”

She handed me a long string of blue and silver tinsel and I followed her into the living room, where the majority had already been decked out in festive decor. Coasters wishing  _ ‘happy holidays’  _ sat in a row on the coffee table, on top of a lacey covering which housed a Menorah. The pillows on the couch read  _ Seasons Greetings _ with a bright red pick up truck that towed a tree in its bed and more Hanukkah themed window clings hung on the sliding back door.

“You’ve been busy.”

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year, don’t you know?” she teased, handing me a piece of tape as I held the tinsel above my head. “Hey, how did it go with your coach?”

“Oh. Fine.”

I could feel the intensity of her gaze on me even without looking.

“...That’s it?”

“He wanted to talk to me about scholarships.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s actually a good idea. It definitely helps to cut down on expenses.”

“Yeah. He got me one. Three, actually.”

“Wait,” Madge held a dramatic hand out in front of me, eyes widening behind her glasses. “Hold on. You’re telling me that you just let me go on about  _ tinsel _ for ten minutes when you had news like that?”

She smacked my chest indignantly.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Another smack.

“Ow, what?” I asked, deflecting her incoming arms again.

“Yes, it is.”

“Fine, it is,” I admitted, making her laugh in disbelief. “But, it doesn’t come without a catch.”

“You have to quit working at the deli,” she guessed before I could get the words out and when I nodded, she exhaled through her nose.

“The Hoffman’s will understand, Gale.”

“Will you?”

“...Will I what?”

“We’ve been working there together since you started. Doesn’t it bother you that I’d quit and give up my commitment to the Hoffman’s for easy money?” I scoffed.

“Nothing about this is easy,” she replied, shooting me a hard look. “We both know that. Of course I’ll miss working with you, but it’s not like it used to be, where that was our only connection. I have a feeling we’ll see each other around.”

I snorted, a quiet, unsure sound and Madge reached out for my hand before pulling me down onto the couch next to her.

“Dare me to tell you a secret,” she commanded, biting her lip.

“Okay, I dare you.”

“I used to look forward to my shift at the deli all week long,” she admitted, embarrassedly. “Just because I wanted to see you.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, I mean, you were distracted…” she trailed off, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. The words she didn’t say clung in their absence.  _ With Cressida. _

“That meant nothing,” I was quick to tell her.

“Still. You didn’t notice me.”

“I did.” It was hard not to, with her incessant talking and guessing games. The way she’d sit up on the counter to read when it was quiet and her feet would swing, hitting the wall in an annoying rhythm. The way she had to turn everything into a game.

Maybe it wasn’t an immediate attraction, but I counted that as a blessing. Had it been, she would’ve become a girl I invited to my bedroom for one night before ushering out the next morning. Everything between us would’ve been strained. Odd. Distant. Knowing myself, it would’ve been impossible to push past it.

“I won’t pretend nothing happened with Cressida,” I said, because she was too smart for me to play it down. “But she wasn’t the reason I liked working at Hoffman’s. You were. You were the one I considered a friend, and trust me that’s not an easy task.”

“Oh, I know,” she chuckled quietly. “I can’t say I was upset when she quit.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“We’re jerks.”

“Yeah.”

“Gale?”

“Hmm?”

“If you have to choose between working at the deli or playing football, you need to take the scholarship and play football.”

“Yeah, but--”

“No,” she interrupted with a shake of her head. “No excuses. You’re quitting Hoffman’s and staying on the team.”

“Jeez, okay,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “You know, you’re kind of sexy when you’re being bossy.”

“Oh?” she chuckled, nervously, freckled cheeks flushing. “Am I?”

“Yep. Can’t say that I’d mind you bossing me--”

My words cut off with the sharp ring of her phone, causing us both to jump with its suddenness. She looked down at it and perked up.

“It’s my parents. Do you mind?”

I shook my head and Madge swiped it unlocked to answer, holding it away from her face. Must’ve been a video chat.

“There she is!” a deep voice said, and Madge laughed as she waved to the camera.

“Happy Hanukkah, sweetie.”

“Happy Hanukkah!” she repeated, jumping up off of the couch. “I’m decorating the apartment. See?” 

She showed them around the living room and I listened as they offered  _ oooh  _ and _ ahhhs _ at her handy work.

“It’s not the same without you here, sweetie,” a female voice lamented, her mother.

“I know…”

“Mom set you a spot at the table and then cried when she realized it,” another one said, and the two girls laughed. “I told her to keep it and we could print out a copy of your face and tape it to the chair.”

“Perfect,” Madge said with a thumbs up. “And then Darius and I will be there in a few weeks and it’ll be like nothing’s different at all. First thing I want to do is make latkes with Grandma.”

“Nope. If you miss Hanukkah, you miss latkes,” her sister teased and Madge scrunched up her face in mock irritation.

“Are you going to the Jewish student center at all?” her mother inquired. “To be with the other kids? I hate the idea of you being alone…” 

“Well, I’m not exactly  _ alone,  _ but yeah I’m sure I’ll go over.”

“Is Darius there with you?”

“Not right at this moment, but he’ll be home soon.”

“Then who do you keep looking at?” 

Madge and I made eye contact again and her face flushed.

“Wh-what?” she stammered. “No one.”

“Liar. You just did it again.”

“Elisabeth, shut up.”

“Is it your boyfriend?” she asked, voice influxating higher. “Mr. luscious locks?”

“Oh my god, are you six or twenty-six?” Madge groaned as her sister laughed in the background.

“Well put him on! It’s time we met him anyways.”

“I don’t want to spring it on--” she cut herself off with an irritated roll of her eyes. “Hold on.”

Holding the phone to her chest she looked at me expectantly. 

“I swear I never called you Mr. luscious locks.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re lying, but okay.”

“I was expecting time to prep you before meeting my family. They can be a little overbearing.”

“You know you didn’t mute yourself, right?”

“Just hold on!” Madge said to her chest before looking back at me.

“It’s fine, Madge.” I was positive, no matter how they were, it would be a better interaction than if the roles were reversed. A pack of primates behaved better than my parents.

“Okay,” she sighed before smiling tightly back at the phone, angling it to catch both of us in the view. “Everyone, this is Gale. Gale, this is my mom, dad, sister Elisabeth and her husband, David.”

“The kids are around here somewhere, but not sure the screen is big enough for them too,” Elisabeth joked and I smiled, waving back at them.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” I said with the same amount of charm and ease I reserved usually for interviews and press conferences. 

“We’ve heard so much about you, but Madge has been stingy with the pictures. You’re cuter than she described even.”

“Really, Elisabeth?”

“What? My baby sister finally has a boyfriend. It’s part of my duties to embarrass you, just means I’m proud.”

“Margaret’s been focusing on her studies, there’s nothing wrong with that,” her mother chided. “She mentioned that you are an athlete?”

“Yes ma’am. I play football.”

“The most barbaric sport of them all,” she chuckled and Madge sighed through her nose. “Honestly, I don’t understand why so many young men choose such careless activities. As if they’re invincible.”

“It’s not like he’s running around without any protection, Ma,” Madge scoffed.

“Margaret, you know as well as I do football is the leading cause of head injury in sports,” she argued, flabbergasted by Madge’s response. “Have you ever had a concussion, Gale?”

“Ah, yeah--”

“There you go,” she said, throwing her hand up in conclusion. 

“You know, I’ve caught a few games,” her dad said, interjecting. “You guys kind of stunk this season.”

“Dad!” Madge gasped, turning to me. “He’s joking. A  _ stupid _ joke, but a joke.”

Her dad laughed on the other side of the camera, and I smirked.

“Yeah. I thought about starting to wear a paper bag over my head,” I replied back, and he practically rolled. 

“There’s always next year,” he said once he managed to speak again.

“Yes sir.”

“Gale actually just told me today that he received  _ three  _ scholarships,” Madge beamed proudly.

“Three?” her mother repeated. “I didn’t know they gave out scholarships for throwing a ball.”

“He’s really good,” she continued stubbornly, “The best wide receiver in his division. Good enough to get into the NFL.”

“Wow,” Elisabeth said with a low whistle, but her mother only pursed her lips.

“I’m a statistics major, too,” I offered. “That’s what I’m studying.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you lead with that?” she asked, smiling a little less tightly. “That’s a good major.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Where’d you find a polite football player, Madge?” her sister inquired.

“Trust me, he’s being on his best behavior right now,” she joked, which made the two of them snicker.

“Well, I hope you’re not getting too distracted, Madge. You need to keep your grades up.” 

“Mom, you just sucked the fun out of this entire call,” her sister muttered.

“Madge is probably the smartest chick I know,” I was quick to reassure Mrs. Undersee, which made Madge smirk. “She’s always studying.”

Her mother pursed her lips.

“That’s what happens when... _ chicks _ want to go to medical school.”

“Hey mom? We actually have to head out. Gale got me a dreidel to make it feel like home and I want to teach him how to play before Darius gets home and distracts us all.”

“Okay, have fun. We love you, see you soon.”

“Bye, Madge.”

She waved goodbye before clicking out of the video chat and sighing heavily, a mixture of chagrin and relief.

“Wow, that was horrible,” she groaned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ambush you like that.”

“I know,” I replied back as Madge rubbed her temples.

“They’re not usually that insufferable. Well, Elisabeth is, but it’s all in good fun. Mom though…”

“It’s cool.” I never did too well with parents.

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Madge assured quickly. “It has more to do with me and my...history.”

She didn’t need to elaborate for me to understand what she was referring to. It was natural her mother would be considered about boys. Especially ones on football teams with long hair and permanent frowns. She was just thinking what I’d known since I met Madge, which was that she was too good for me but for some unknown reason chose to stick around. 

“She’d give any boyfriend of mine a difficult time.”

“Well, she should,” I agreed with a grunt and Madge shrugged indifferently.

“Once they get to know you, and you them, I think you guys will get along.”

Clearly, it was important to her that we did. That was what happened when you had healthy relationships with your family. The approval of her parents, her mother especially, meant something to her.

“First impressions are always awkward.” I tried to salvage, and it sufficed because she nodded in agreement before letting out one last groan and reaching for my hand.

“Come on, I wasn’t joking about wanting to teach you the dreidel. I have gelt we can play for, too.”

“Gelt?”

“Chocolate coins.”

“Are you teaching me how to gamble?” I asked, with mock horror and Madge smiled wickedly, clasping her hands together.

“You’ll learn from the master.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yes. I used to have all of my sister’s and cousins coins by the end of the evening. Eventually my cousins stopped playing with me, but my sister is too stubborn to admit I’m better than her at something.”

She dropped a small pile of gelt on the table and explained the rules. If the dreidel landed  _ Nun _ side up, you forfeited a turn.  _ Shin _ meant you put one piece in the winnings pile,  _ Hey,  _ and you could take half of the winnings. Get  _ Gimmel _ and the whole pot was yours.

If I hadn’t bought the dreidel myself, I would’ve thought Madge rigged it.

She scooped all the pieces over to her side of the table for a third time before my own irritation began to set in.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” she sang, opening another piece of chocolate to place on her tongue. “I told you that I was good.”

“Hmph,” I mumbled as she licked chocolate off her lips.

“Here,” Madge said, standing up from her chair to lean across the table with a piece in her hand. “Because I don’t want you to hate Hanukkah, I’ll share.”

She held it out in offering, daring me to take it straight from her hand. My lips brushed against her fingertips as I did, leaving behind some melted chocolate on the pads of them. 

“Messy,” she whispered, voice too soft to be chiding. Her big eyes were focused on me, wide in awe, blazing with the sort of passion that could light up in her in an instant. The kind that drove me crazy.

When I leaned back in and took her finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it until it was clean, her eyes visibly darkened.

“Did you want to keep playing...or....” she trailed off and I popped the finger out from my mouth.

“Or?” I prompted and she swallowed hard.

“...Or.”

Hell yes. A word had never sounded sweeter.

I let her lead the way down the hall to her bedroom, and when she twisted the lock behind her, my heart rate increased.

“This is probably what your mother was talking about,” I said as she stalked closer to me. “Distracting you from your academics.”

“I’ve spent enough time studying I think,” she said quietly before her eyebrows pinched. “And don’t bring up my mom again in my bedroom.”

“Deal,” I chuckled before she pushed me back gently on the bed. I fell back, spreading my legs enough that hers could rest in between them as she landed on top of me and pushed my hair out from my eyes.

When we kissed, she tasted like chocolate and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning at the sweet taste. 

Christ, no one has ever made me feel this turned on before. This damn needy. Like despite the fact that we were already impossibly close I just wanted to be  _ fucking closer.  _

A shudder rippled through Madge when my hand trailed down to her sternum. Through the thin fabric of her shirt, I could already feel her heart rate pounding. 

She released a shaky breath, tilting her head back, giving me more access to her body.

I kissed her neck and then down lower. When I reached the valley between her breasts, she pulled her shirt off quickly, gifting me a better view.

“Lay back,” I told her, flipping positions to be leaning over the top of her when her back hit the mattress. She looked so good laying there sprawled out. Blonde hair falling haphazardly around her pillows. Fingernails scratching the top of my head in slow patterns as I kissed her naked skin lower. 

“Where are you going?” Madge whispered, voice a cross between jest and arousal when I swirled my tongue around her navel. 

I stroked her soft skin just above the line of her jeans. Small, baby hairs tickled my fingertips as I did and I saw her pupils dilate.

“Lower,” I answered quietly, brushing the button of her pants experimentally. “If that’s okay.”

“I…” her cheeks were flushed, mixed emotions playing out in her mind. “I mean, I’ve never done that before.”

“I know. I have, though.” I wasn’t sure if it was what she wanted to hear or not. If it was a bonus or a negative that I had clear experience, but in this area I hoped she saw it positively. I was experienced enough that I could make it really fucking good for her…

“I want to, Madge.”

“I want you to, too,” she breathed, hips lifting slightly so that I could work her pants down over the curve of her ass. 

She gasped when I kissed her hip bone, just above the pink underwear line. Instinctively, I felt her muscles relax and legs open wider. When I chanced a glance up, she was biting her lower lip, eyes piercing into mine.

_ Daring _ me to do it.

Like I was going to pass it up.

I ran my thumb down her center and could feel the heat of her even through the underwear. When I pushed them to the side and revealed light blonde hair neatly trimmed covering her folds, I felt my nostrils flare.

“Fuck, you’re pretty.” 

Madge shifted under my scrutiny, but I couldn’t help looking. She was already wet and her small clit was peeking out as her legs spread a little more. Teasing me.

“Don’t stare,” she groaned, throwing her head back into the pillow. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I told her, kissing the inside of her thigh. When I motioned to take her panties off, she lifted her hips so I could slide them down with ease. 

“No?” she asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. The image of her staring down at me between the swells of her breasts, legs spread, eyes wide with excitement was one I wouldn’t soon forget.

“No,” I repeated back hoarsely. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay?”

She nodded and I slid my hands up the length of her thighs, brushing her lips before my index finger traced over her clit, pressing the hood back gently to reveal more of the sensitive flesh.

Madge stiffened at the contact and released a held moan. Then, the softest, prettiest plea fell from her lips.

“Please, Gale?”

My name had never sounded sweeter.

I circled my finger around her clit slowly, with just enough pressure to make her breath increase and make her more slick for me.

“I-I like that.”

I laughed against her skin as my fingers worked.

“Yeah, you do. I can tell. You’re so wet.”

“I am,” she gasped, and it wasn’t a question, but a confirmation. “It’s your fault.”

“I’ll take the blame for that.” 

The idea that my mouth would be the first one between her legs had me shaking with desire. I couldn’t help the way my own hips ground against the bed for friction as I moved further down, aligning my head with her pussy.

“You have no idea, do you?” I asked, looking up at a rosy faced Madge. Her eyebrows knit in confusion as she stared back.

“No idea about what?”

“How insane you drive me.”

She smirked, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear before linking one ankle over my shoulder. Silently demanding for me to continue.

“I know.”

Then, there was no more time to waste, and my lips were on her. Madge moaned; a soft femine sound that worked its way through my body. My nose nuzzled against her clit as my tongue took one long swipe between her folds. Licking her good before slowly pressing a finger inside. 

Madge’s lips formed a small circle, eyebrows dipping before rising as I began to move my finger and she grew more used to the sensation.

“Yes,” she whispered with a nod.  _ “Yes, Gale.” _

My tongue found her clit and I stroked it with the tip of my tongue until she was panting so hard she was almost mewling, and then I sucked it in past my lips.

Madge’s hands flew down to my head, gripping my hair tight for purchase, muscles of her body going rigid.

And she cried out loud enough for the neighbors to fucking hear.

I laughed around her skin, not caring at all who heard as I worked a little quicker. 

“I feel like...it’s building,” she tried explaining through ragged breaths. “L-like if you keep doing that...oh please,  _ please  _ keep doing that with your tongue.”

I did, and her whole body began to shake.

Madge clung to me as she came, head thrashing against the pillow as the intense euphoria of orgasm took over her. She didn’t let go for a long time, keeping me between her legs until she fell back in exhaustion. 

“Five star rating?” I joked and all she could offer was a limp smile. When I came to lay down next to her, she raised a hand up in front of mine.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a high-five.”

“For going down on you?” I needed the clarification, because if there was one thing I’d never been  _ high fived  _ for, it was that. 

“Yep,” she sighed, content. “High fives for the things you can do with your tongue. I just...you need to be congratulated.” 

I humored her and when our palms met she linked her fingers through mine, bringing them to rest down over her chest before turning to face me.

“So you’ll let me do it again, then?”

Her flushed cheeks as she stared back at me were so enticing I couldn’t help reaching out to rub one.

“Anytime.”

We laid there for a long time, with Madge’s arm wrapped around my stomach and her head on my chest. When my phone buzzed, I wanted to ignore it, but reluctantly glanced at it quick. A new message from Hazelle about the Christmas presents. It could wait. 

Madge noticed my lock screen though and reached a hand out for it. I handed it to her, watching the way she studied the picture of each of the kids silently.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

There was something about the idea of introducing her to the kids that filled my gut with anxiety. Like they were my own, and I wanted to protect them from the potential sting of hurt. So many people had come and gone from their lives, and I’d never introduced a girlfriend to any of them before. 

She seemed to notice my hesitancy and back-pedaled. 

“Whenever you’re comfortable. Just...someday.”

She handed me back the phone and I stared at it a long moment before expelling a breath through my nose. It was difficult to explain, that it had nothing to do with not wanting her to meet them personally. Someone like Madge, so sweet and likable. They’d stick to her like glue. It was equally terrifying as it was a heartwarming thought.

I wanted for them to have more people in their lives who cared about them. Especially Posy, who could use more positive female role models in her life. 

But even though I didn’t want to think about it, there was still the persistent, nagging voice in the back of my head that warned about what would happen if the kids got attached and then Madge was gone? 

I wanted to let her in all the way already. Show her every avenue of my life that I’d so carefully kept pushed aside from everyone else. But...not yet. The timing had to be right.

“Soon,” I promised her, and the answer thankfully sufficed. She adjusted herself against me closer, head resting on my shoulder as we drifted into comfortable silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah to all my friends who celebrate! I am hoping to have another chapter out before Christmas, but this next week is very busy so if it does not happen then Merry Christmas to all my friends who celebrate that as well! I hope, however you celebrate (or don't) you have a pleasant end to the month and to the new year!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this longer chapter as my thank you for being so patient! I'm sorry it took so long. Have a fantastic, and safe rest of the weekend! Stay healthy, xoxo.


	13. January 12-17

* * *

_Don't wanna wait on it, tonight I want to get nasty._

_What you waiting for?_

_-Ariana Grande_

* * *

“Come on, cat,” I called, setting a plate of fishy-smelling food down on the floor. “Hurry up and eat.”

“Don’t be mean to him,” Madge chastised over the phone, her disapproving frown staring me down through the screen as we FaceTimed.

“I’m not,” I protested. 

“Just set it down, he’ll come.”

I did, and within a few minutes Peter tentatively walked over, sniffed, and began to eat.

I’d been pet sitting since Madge took Darius back to New York with her to visit her family. They’d been gone a little over a week now, and still Peter and I had yet to make progress in our relationship. It seemed he liked me better when Madge was also around.

“Give him lots of cuddles for me,” she sighed before noise off screen drew her attention away. “I have to get going, but we’ll talk later?” 

“Okay, have fun.”

“You too. Play nice!” The screen went dark and I shook my head, stuffing the phone down into my pocket. 

Peter looked up at me with wide, cautious eyes. Still licking his lips from the finished meal. 

“She was talking to you too, you know.”

It felt strange that the holidays were already over. All the hype and excitement that built up for over a month and then...nothing.

Already, campus and all of the streets and shops surrounding it had been stripped of their decor, leaving an eerie emptiness in its presence. Not helped by the fact that much of the student body was still away on break.

Seeing the kids had been short, but good. Madge was able to get one of her friends from a hospital rotation to look after Peter for a few nights while I drove back to Waukesha to surprise them. It was strange, pulling up to a house decorated with string lights and a tree, like all of the others on the quiet street. 

Evidence of what I assumed was supposed to be a snowman was still in the front yard, scarf and lopsided smile included. It was nothing more than a mound, though. Two feet off the ground. It came as no surprise to find out Posy had been behind its creation. Her impatience for building a proper one showed.

_“Are you staying the night?”_ she asked brightly, noting my backpack. When I told her that I would be staying two, even Vick couldn’t help but smile.

Hazelle let them open their presents from me early, because Rory and Posy could hardly contain their excitement once I stuck them under the tree. And she’d been right. Seeing their smiles, the gasps and giggles of excitement had been worth braving the overly crowded toy store for. 

_“Can I give Gale his tonight too, Grandma?”_ Rory asked excitedly.

_“I think that’s only fair.”_

_“I want to give mine, too!”_

_“We should leave him something to open on Christmas, don’t you think?”_ Hazelle chuckled, and the kids instantly deflated.

_“But if Gale doesn’t mind…”_

Three sets of eyes trained on me, and when I gave them the green light, Rory and Posy practically mowed each other down in a rush to the tree. 

Rory set his wrapped package down on my lap first, the tag attached to the top stating that the present was for me and from him in his messy script.

I unwrapped it carefully and sifted through the layer of tissue paper before finding a thick pair of socks and some candies beneath them.

_“I bought it with my own allowance money,”_ he boasted proudly as I pulled him in for a hug. When I took off my current socks to replace them with the new, Posy held her nose and all of the kids burst into laughter when Hazelle suggested we burned the used pair.

Posy was up next, presenting me with a painted canvas magnet that she had made in art class which displayed an impressive winter scene on it.

_“You made this?”_

She smiled shyly, nodding. 

_“I’m going to put it on the refrigerator back at my apartment.”_

_“Do you think Peeta and Finn will like it too?”_ she asked, excitement growing at the prospect. Truth was, I didn’t care either way, it was going there. But I had no doubts that either of them would protest. 

Vick gave me a gift card to one of my favorite fast food stops, a gift that would definitely come in handy, and then Hazelle passed a thin box over to me. 

_“From us all.”_

I took off the paper and revealed a box with neat gold script embossed on the lid. Inside was a tie by a brand I knew was out of any of our price range. The kind that Finnick had let me borrow before a television interview once. I’d opened his top drawer to see a dozen or so of the designer ties laying inside, and he had very casually told me to just _keep it_ upon returning. Like he’d gotten it at Goodwill or something. Which, ironically, was where most of mine were from.

I looked up at Hazelle and saw her smiling from her chair on the other side of the room.

_“It’s too much.”_

_“It’s just a tie,”_ Posy scoffed, oblivious.

_“You’re a top division athlete,”_ Hazelle supplied. _“You have to look the part.”_

The rest of the visit had gone smoothly, filled with Christmas movies and gingerbread cookies. I helped Posy rebuild her snowman and got my ass kicked at chess by Rory multiple times. The night before Christmas, Vick and I stayed up until almost three in the morning playing video games.

Leaving sucked, the way it normally did. Posy cried and Rory rode his bike beside my car all the way to the end of the road, waving in my rearview mirror until I’d completely disappeared from view. For more than half of the two hour drive back to Panem, I weighed out the pros and cons of driving from campus to care for Peter and back to Waukesha each day. Unfortunately, the gas alone was the deciding factor. 

And I found that the more I came back, the harder the goodbyes were each time on the kids. 

When I called for our weekly FaceTime, I took a few minutes to show off Peter in hopes of brightening their moods, and it worked so well that it had become somewhat of a routine for them to call for a few minutes each night to check in on the cat.

_“When did you get a cat?”_ Posy had asked innocently, and I froze.

_“Uh, well, it’s not mine.”_

_“Whose is it?”_

_“A friend’s.”_

_“Oh.”_

When I told Madge, it made her laugh and she loved the idea of the kids being so enamored with Peter. When she mentioned that the next time they were in Panem, they should come and visit him, I had a hard time thinking up reasons why it would be a bad idea.

After Peter was fed and seemingly content for the time being, I went back over to the apartment to grab fresh clothes for the next few days.

Finnick was there, looking more put together than usual. He followed me through the apartment, and leaned against the doorway of my room, silently watching as I rooted through my drawers.

“...Can I help you?”

“You’re coming to family dinner tonight, right?” he spun his keys around his pointer finger in quick circles as he spoke. “At my house this week, per Mom’s insistence. She’ll blame me if you say no.”

Crap. I’d honestly forgotten about the Odair’s invitation to have family dinner at their house. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there,” I said, stuffing some things down into my backpack. “Just send me your address again.”

“You’re not running away or something, are you?” he asked, motioning to the backpack.

“I’m watching Madge’s cat.”

“How adorable.”

“Get out.”

“Five-thirty!” he called, disappearing down the hallway. 

+++

The Odair’s house was exactly what I expected. Large, with high ceilings and chandeliers. Bright and clean, with everything in its right place. Despite the grandeur, it still managed to be welcoming, though I was sure that had more to do with the people living inside of it.

“Gale! Good to see you again!” One of his sisters--it was hard to remember which one--greeted me with a hug, undeterred by my stiffened body.

“Happy New Year!”

“You too.”

“Come on in. I think Finnick and Peeta are in the living room.” 

There were still Christmas trees in every room, from the bathroom where a small one sat next to the sink, to the dining room and even the main hallway upstairs.

“Did you put presents under each tree?” I messed with Finnick when I joined him and Peeta in the kitchen, where they were sampling some cheese off a labeled board. He stabbed a piece with a toothpick and bit it with a roll of his eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“We used to,” his other sister supplied. “When Finn was younger. Remember?”

“Yes!” Mrs. Odair chimed in with a grin. “We made a scavenger hunt out of it.”

“How fun,” I smirked and Finnick scowled.

“We haven’t done that since I was like ten.”

“No,” Mr. Odair scoffed, shaking his head innocently. “You need to get your head checked. We kept that tradition up until you graduated high school.”

“Except for the year after he broke his arm...”

“Alright, Lana. No one wants to hear that story.”

That’s right. Lana was the one with shorter hair and Cordelia had the kids that were playing downstairs. Marceline didn’t live in Wisconsin anymore and had left shortly after the holidays. 

“I want to hear it,” Peeta chimed in, grinning.

Lana and Cordelia told the story in perfect sync, filling in gaps the other left and acting out with impressive dramatics the way Finnick fell off the banister midway sliding down one Christmas morning.

“We spent the day in the emergency room.” 

“My ham was ruined,” Coredelia frowned. 

“Just shows you the lengths I’ll go to avoid your cooking.”

It was impossible not to laugh, witnessing the Odair’s antics with one another. After the good-hearted teasing ceased, Mrs. Odair wrapped her arms around Finnick from behind and kissed the top of his head.

“I always said we needed to bubble wrap you, kid.”

It was obvious, despite Finnick’s show of irritation and his sister's banter, that the Odair house had plenty of love in it. 

The wall leading up a winding staircase was decorated with photos from Cordelia and Marceline’s weddings, and graduation pictures ranging from pre-school to master’s degrees of all four of them. 

Finnick was hardly recognizable in the one from his high school graduation. Even with a cap on, it was obvious his hair was thin and sporadic from illness. Skin pale with deep bags beneath his eyes. 

Still, the whole family was wrapped around him like a blanket and he wore a bright smile.

“Not my best look,” Finnick muttered, startling me as he appeared behind me suddenly. Dinner was finished and dishes done. Mr. and Mrs. Odair were in the kitchen preparing dessert when I wandered off to look at the collage.

“It’s like a damn shrine,” he commented, picking up a photo of him that was more recent, wearing his uniform after game day.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, feeling guilty for some reason. Like I’d been intruding on memories, despite them being there for people to admire.

“It’s nice.”

I could remember a time when I was much younger, that the small windowsill in the kitchen was decorated similarly, with photographs.

One I didn’t recall being taken, of me holding a newborn Vick. My front tooth was missing from an otherwise toothy grin and stringy hair flopped over into my eyes. The center one was of Vick and Rory in the bathtub, all sudsy and laughing. Another of baby Posy, sticking her tongue out behind yet another smile.

I remember thinking they were nice. Snapshots of moments that weren’t tied to negative emotions. Though they were few and far between, we did have them. I remembered feeling like a normal family when I caught sight of them. Like the kids who ran off the bus into the open arms of their mom after school and had snacks waiting on the table for them. Ones who were rocked to sleep by lullabies hummed in their ear instead of covering them to block out the sound of dishes breaking and screaming.

Mom used to say she kept the pictures there because they were something sweet to look at while she did dishes instead of the shitty trailer park outside.

_“I love my babies’ smiles,”_ she’d say, pinching my chin with a bone-thin thumb and forefinger. 

I believed her, sometimes. Believed there was a part of her, when sober and in her right mind that thought having those pictures up made her a good mom. Tangible proof that she cared about the four of us and our well-being. 

The older I got though, the more the reality of the situation struck me. That, more likely, they weren’t there to serve as happy memories but more so to serve as _evidence_ of happy memories in case anyone came snooping around.

Props.

Not the case at the Odair’s home, though, and not even the case for my siblings anymore. It seemed every time I went back over to Hazelle’s there were more pictures hanging or situated around the house than the last time.

“Yeah, I guess,” he answered, before Lana called us for games and dessert. 

It was late by the time I made it back to Madge’s apartment, and it still felt strange entering to silence rather than the usual ruckus created by her and Darius. 

Peter trilled at my arrival, brushing up against the wall, happy for company it seemed. He didn’t object when I bent down to pick him up, and began to purr when I rubbed the top of his head.

We played with some string until he was tired enough to curl up into a ball beside me on the couch and fall asleep. When I sent Madge a picture, she replied with three cat emojis with hearts in its eyes.

_Madge (11:04pm):_ Your new buddy!

**Me (11:05pm):** Seems that way.

_Madge (11:05pm):_ How was Finnick’s?

**Me (11:06pm):** Not bad. Fun. How are you doing?

_Madge (11:07pm):_ I’m good! Been having a great time with everyone, but I would be lying if I didn’t say I missed Panem.

The winky face positioned at the end of the sentence made me chuckle to myself as I typed back a reply. 

**Me (11:08pm):** Missing the scenery?

I turned on the television, if for no other reason than to create a little bit of noise in the apartment, and flipped through the channels. 

_Madge (11:09pm):_ What scenery? Lol, just kidding. No, more so the people. Specific people, to be exact…

**Me (11:10pm):** Greasy Sae.

_Madge (11:10pm):_ Lol! You’re hopeless. 

_Madge (11:10pm):_ I’m excited to see *you*, idiot.

**Me (11:11pm):** I’m excited to see you, too.

* * *

After having fallen asleep chatting with Madge, I half expected the messages pinging on my phone the next morning to be from her. I rolled over in her bed and stretched, eyes still narrowed into slits as I picked my phone up from the charger. 

When I saw Dad’s contact information light up across the screen, it felt like my stomach had lodged itself in my throat.

3 missed calls. Two new text messages.

_Dad (4:34am):_ Call me.

_Dad (6:57am):_ We need to talk.

What could we possibly have to talk about? Nearly two months had passed since I’d last heard from him, but that’s just how he was. How things had always been with him. Good at ignoring my existence until it was convenient and then happy to pop in unexpectedly, leaving chaos in his wake. 

Two months, and our last conversation had been about money. There was a large part of me that was willing to bet that the reason he was so desperate to contact me about in the middle of the night was for a similar reason. I wondered how long he’d go before calling again if I just chose to ignore him…

I rolled out of Madge’s bed and tried to tame the uneasy feeling rising in my chest. Went through the mantra in my mind that often helped to relieve tension.

He was over one hundred miles away.

I was twenty years old.

No longer was I under his thumb. Bound to his rules. He was limited in every capacity in what he could do to me anymore.

I exhaled out a held breath and opened the door to Peter standing there in the hall, eager for his breakfast. Usually, I’d ignore him for the time being. Go to the shower and get ready for the day before stopping in the kitchen to feed him, but that morning it was a welcomed distraction.

I met up with Peeta on the lakeshore path for a run because the gym hours were severely cut back due to the break. We did a good five miles before stopping to grab some food. When I found out he planned on spending the rest of the day back at the apartment, I made the excuse to head over there, too. Because I was a pansy and didn’t want to be alone.

I did laundry, just so I didn’t look suspicious and went up into the loft to play some video games while I waited. 

My phone buzzed several more times throughout the day. All from the same number. All with the same urgent, increasingly threatening tone to them when I continued to ignore them.

I felt stupid for avoiding going back to Madge’s empty apartment for so long. Like somehow he would be inside waiting for me. It was all completely illogical, and I knew it. Unfortunately, fear did not.

I sat in my car out front of Madge’s house for a long moment, staring down at my phone with a finger hovering above the _play_ icon on one of his several messages. The streetlights were just beginning to come on, illuminating the dark streets.

I pressed play and held the device up to my ear.

_“Gale, this is my fourth time calling. Call me back.”_

Immediately, the next one played.

_“It’s important. Need to talk with you.”_

A dial tone, and then another.

_“Damnit, Gale! Answer your fucking phone!”_

I shut my eyes and swallowed heavily.

_“Gale, please. I’m worried. If you don’t answer the phone, I’ll just have to drive up to Panem myself and make sure you’re alright. Don’t forget, I know the way.”_

The outright care in his words which masked the deeper threat and intimidation beneath them was enough to have me swallowing back bile. 

_Don’t forget._ I could practically hear the smirk in his tone. The way he knew with those few words, he would be able to reel me back in. _I know the way._

You play by my rules. I control you.

There was no way he actually knew where I lived. The only social media I had was Instagram, which was strictly for promotional reasons, full of pictures from football games and practices. One single post, the last one I made, was from the winter festival with Madge, but that was all.

The lease was under Peeta’s name. Nothing traced me back to it, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t find out the information. There were enough people around campus who could easily supply it.

I hated that he knew exactly what to say, though. And that it kept fucking working.

A long shadow cast itself over my car and I jumped at its sudden appearance before looking up to see Madge standing over the top of me.

“Jesus,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt as she tapped on the window.

“Surprise!” her bright smile was a welcomed sight as I stepped out of the car and into her waiting arms. “You’re a little jumpy, everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I promised, tucking my phone away. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she admitted. “We just got home a bit ago. I saw you pull in and came out because I couldn’t wait!”

“I’m glad you did,” I said truthfully, forcing a smile. She wrapped her arms around me tighter, accepting a kiss readily before moving her hands up into my hair, pulling on it to keep me closer for longer. 

“Did you miss me?” she joked, making me smirk a little as I nodded.

“Peter might’ve missed you the most.”

“That might be true. He’s been desperate for attention since I walked in the door,” she laughed, hand tightening in mine as she turned towards her apartment. “Can you stay a while?”

I’d been planning on it before she surprised me, anyways. Her being there was just more incentive to. 

“Yeah, I can stay.”

“Good,” she grinned, “because Peter isn’t the only boy who deserves some attention.” 

“Oh?” I asked, and when she wiggled her eyebrows at my teasingly I felt the anxiety of earlier beginning to melt away with her presence. 

The normal, chaotic energy of Madge and Darius’s apartment was back with their arrival. Luggage discarded in the living room, music already sounding through Darius’s old record player, Keruig brewing a large cup of coffee.

“You’re going to be up all night,” Madge commented, slipping out of her shoes as we walked through the front door.

“Au contraire, I will sleep like a baby,” he argued, dropping a sugar cube into the cup before drowning it with milk. “Coffee and I are at the point in our relationship where it is a necessity to survival, not an enhancement. The caffeine just keeps me from being a bitch, and after a long flight it’s totally necessary.”

“Fair enough.”

“Gale, you didn’t kill the cat!” he exclaimed, like keeping the animal alive wasn’t the goal this whole time.

“Of course he didn’t kill the cat,” Madge tisked before looking up at me. “I had complete trust in you.”

“Eh,” Darius said, voice an octave or so higher than normal as he moved his hand from left to right, as if to say _a little bit._ “Gale, do you like cheesecake? You have to try some we brought back from New York.”

He pulled out a massive slab and three forks, handing Madge and I each one before we dug into it right there in the kitchen. We stood there chatting for over an hour as Madge and Darius took turns telling stories from their trip. When they cycled through all of their stories, Darius set the plate we used in the sink and sighed dramatically. 

“Well, it’s been fun kids, but I have a man to go see and I’m sure the two of you wouldn’t mind a little time to yourselves, either.”

“Tell Thom hi,” Madge directed, to which Darius dutifully nodded before slipping into his shoes and exiting the apartment.

Madge turned to me, pushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear before her arms found their way around my waist again.

“Thank you for taking care of Peter for me.”

“He wasn’t such a bad companion.”

“I want to hear about what you got up to while I was gone, and Christmas with the kids!” she said excitedly as she went to the living room to retrieve her suitcase. “Tell me while I unpack.”

I followed her into her bedroom, with Peter close behind us, ever curious about the rolling luggage that smelled nothing like her home.

Madge unzipped it on the floor, rummaging through a mixture of clean and dirty things and making piles as I talked. Eventually Peter lost interest and made his way back into the living room, and shortly after Madge did too. She abandoned the half-empty suitcase to come and lay on the bed next to me, positioning her body so it was flush against the side of mine.

“Your bed is a lot more interesting with you in it,” I commented, and felt her laughter against me as her hand idly raked up and down my chest. 

“Yeah, I have to admit that you add a level of excitement to it, too.” The way she wouldn’t meet my gaze felt almost purposeful as she dutifully stared past me, or fixed her eyes below my shoulders. 

“You know, I had a dream about us not long after I left for New York.”

“Yeah?” I asked absently as my eyes started to drift shut. Completely relaxed.

“Mhm,” she hummed, silent for a few seconds before she continued. “A sexy dream.”

I opened one eye.

“What were we doing in this sexy dream?”

Her cheeks flushed and she twisted a piece of my hair around her finger tip absently, focusing on it as she cleared her throat.

“Well...we were on the bed. _Your_ bed, actually. And um, we weren’t wearing much clothing.” 

“Did you have this dream after reading one of your erotic books?”

She smacked my chest and I laughed at her fervent protest.

“So we were in the bed, scantily clothed,” I teased, motioning for her to continue. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. When I moved closer to her, she sucked in a breath. 

“Then what?”

Her eyes skimmed down to my lips and then back up.

“You kissed me.”

I leaned in, closing the distance between us and touched my lips to hers. I felt her respond in the way she pressed herself against me, mouth parting to allow further entry. My hand slid around her back, teasing the hem of her shirt as we kissed.

When we pulled apart for a breath, I took the opportunity to dip my head down to her neck.

“And then?” I pressed in between kisses.

“Then--” her breath hiccuped and she tilted her head back, granting me easier access. “We…”

“Talk to me, Madge,” I whispered, desperate to hear her. She wouldn’t be winning awards for her dirty talk anytime soon, but I was already hard. The thought of her dreaming about sex turned me to steel.

“We were in a lot less clothing than this.”

I sat up, forcing her to roll onto her back and pulled my shirt up over my head. She took me in appreciatively, biting her lower lip before nodding. 

“That’s a start.”

Madge followed my lead, adjusting to the middle of the bed as I climbed on top of her and teased her shirt off until she was laying there in just a bra and her leggings.

The material was thin enough that I could see the hard points of her nipples beneath it, and the dusty pink surrounding them. I brushed my nose against her clavicle, licking the warm skin there as our hips rocked against each other.

“That feels good,” she whispered, eyes fluttering close as her legs locked themselves around my hips. I could feel her heels dig into the small of my back, holding me there. Challenging me to retreat. 

I rotated my hips in a circle and groaned into her hair, breathing it in. My cock rubbed against the waistband of my sweats as we ground against each other, driving me absolutely insane. Madge pushed my hair back and rested her hands around my neck, looking up at me determinedly.

“Gale?” she mumbled, waiting a breath before continuing. “I think that I’m ready.”

My brain couldn’t even process if she was talking about what I hoped she was. Her words just kept spinning around my head.

_She was ready._

Christ, me too.

“Are you sure?” I asked, swallowing. 

Her hair was wild, laying haphazardly over the pillows as she looked up and nodded her confirmation at me.

Impossibly, her legs spread wider.

“Positive.”

Fuck me. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky. How I managed to be the guy laying between Madge Undersee’s legs. Of all the things I didn’t feel enough for, this had to be damn near the top of the list. 

“I don’t have a condom,” I admitted, begrudgingly. Wishing more than anything we were at my apartment in that moment instead of hers.

Madge’s crestfallen expression brightened after a moment, and she pushed up to ease me off of her.

“Be right back.” 

She tiptoed over to the door, crossing a hand over her chest despite Darius not being home and then disappeared down the hall. A few moments passed before she returned, a victorious smile on her face as she waved a singular condom clutched in her fingertips.

“God bless Darius.”

I laughed, relieved and took it from her, sliding my sweats down as she wiggled out of her leggings and moved to lay back on the bed. 

I slipped the condom on and then looked back at her. One last chance for her to change her mind. She bit the corner of her lip as I moved my hips in closer, tracing the head of my cock over her slippery folds. She was already so wet. I could feel the warmth radiating off of her. Teasing me in the best way possible. My body trembled in anticipation.

“I’ll go slow,” I promised hoarsely, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She inhaled and tensed as I began to slip inside of her.

Shit, she was tight. I could feel her muscles clenching around me already and fought to maintain composure. 

A little bit more.

“Good?” I panted, fighting to keep my eyes open.

She nodded, willing me to move again. I groaned as I did, stopping again after a couple inches to allow her time to adjust. _Oh god._ So close to being completely buried inside of her.

I grit my teeth, nostrils flaring with my intense breaths as I looked down at her. Her chest was heaving. Eyes screwed shut. It was impossible to tell whether it was a mask of ecstasy or pain she wore. The two were so damn similar.

“Madge?” I asked, willing my hips to still.

“Keep going,” she gritted out. 

Pain, then.

“Give it a minute,” I said. 

When she nodded for me to move again, I tried to slip in further, but she was so tense, so nervous, it was like her body was rejecting me. Unwilling to let me go any further. 

“Relax…”

“Trying,” she whimpered. 

Not good. At this rate her first time was going to be memorable for all of the wrong reasons. There was no way for me to know what she was feeling, but until she felt comfortable enough to truly relax, it was going to be like trying to fit a square into a circle. Wasn’t gonna work.

I pulled out completely and sat back on my legs. Madge looked up at me, a mixture of confusion and defeat in her expression.

“No, don’t--”

“Let me do something. I think it’ll help.”

“Anything,” she nodded in agreement, eager for a solution.

I hooked my arms behind her knee caps and curled my hands around her inner thighs, pulling them further apart slowly as my head dipped lower between her legs. Madge gasped in surprise before sinking into the touch. She spread wider, allowing me more access to her slick skin and sighed in relief when my tongue grazed her clit.

The sounds she made above me were enough to put me on edge. Her deep moans and the husky rasp in her voice as she begged me to continue.

“Please don’t stop…”

I didn’t. Not until she came apart, hips bucking up into my face, thigh muscles spasming. Her back arched up off of the bed and her hands clung to my shoulders, so tightly I would’ve sworn she left marks.

I kissed her hipbone before resting my chin there, looking up at her.

“Better?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“Good.” 

“There’s something I want to do, too,” she said, leaning up just far enough to take my cock in her hand. Instantly, my interest in her plans skyrocketed.

“Lay on your back,” she instructed, and we did an awkward dance of shuffling on the bed until I was laying against the pile of pillows, looking at her anxiously. My cock rested impatiently against my stomach, hard and still wrapped inside of a condom. When she slipped it off, her fingernails raked against the side of it, and I couldn’t help the way my body jolted at the touch.

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Even the air against my cock felt so good. When Madge’s breath fanned across the hot flesh, a pained sound escaped me.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed, staring down at her beneath lidded eyes.

She bent forward and brought her lips to the tip of me, tracing her tongue in circles with purpose. She moved expertly, flicking the underside before moving to encircle it fully again and I had to fist my hands around the blankets to keep from putting them in her hair. 

Her thick hair that kept falling in her face and she’d bat it away stubbornly. 

She pulled back with a frustrated sigh and my cock was actually twitching from the loss of contact. Flailing like the pathetic attention seeker it was in desperation for her to return to the task. Madge, being the absolute weirdo she was, seemed enamored by its movement.

“Hold my hair?” she asked, so innocently it almost made me bust right there. With a shaking hand I gathered her hair and collected it in my hand to hold back gently. 

When she went back to it, she opened her mouth impossibly wider, accommodating more of my girth. I gasped in surprise, muscles clenching, eyes widening in disbelief as she took more of me in. Her bottom molars scraped my skin a little but I didn’t even care. 

“Madge,” I croaked, my own voice unrecognizable. Like it was the very first time a girl had put her mouth on my dick.

It didn’t matter. When she did it, that’s how it felt.

“Fuck. Feels good.”

“Hmm,” she hummed around me before pulling back to tease. “Does it?”

_“Yes.”_

“How good?” she asked, kissing the underside just below the head, where I was so sensitive it gave me goosebumps.

“L-little brat,” I panted. She continued kisses down the length, to where my balls were drawn up tight and when her lips pressed between them and I felt her tongue dart out to lick up the middle seam, my thighs started to shake.

“So _good.”_

She put one in her mouth, stroking my shaft as she teased me below, touching me in ways I’d never been touched before. God, why hadn’t I ever felt this before? My vision was actually blurring with how incredible it felt.

“I’m going to come. Madge, I’m close,” I warned her frantically, and her hand stroked my cock quicker as she continued to suck. I groaned, eyes rolling to the back of my head as the first orgasmic waves took over. 

Electric jolts continued to shock me for a few minutes, and when I could finally look down at Madge, she had cum dripping down her chin, gorgeous lips red and parted as she studied me proudly.

“Let me help you clean up,” I said, limbs still shaking. She giggled and gave my thigh a firm pat.

“Stay sitting. I’ll be right back.”

“How did you learn to do that?” I asked, falling back down flat on the bed. Still out of breath and drained from a blowjob. Like I was fifteen. But God, the image alone of her taking my cock all the way to the back of her throat had it threatening to harden again for round two.

_Calm the hell down, you greedy bastard._

“I may have done a little research,” she admitted, quite proud of herself as she pushed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose. She licked her lips, like she just couldn’t help it. Like she wanted one last taste. And just like that I was getting hard again as she climbed up into my lap. 

“And practiced.”

“Practiced?” I asked, half delirious, half intrigued. She wiped the remaining evidence of orgasm off of my stomach as she nodded.

“Yeah, on a banana.” She bit the corner of her lip, a little chagrined. “Then Darius caught me and said a popsicle was more effective. He was right.” 

I laughed, shaking my head at how insane she was. But in the best possible way. She was a breath of fresh air, different from the jersey hungry groupies that latched onto me. Different than any of my friends. 

She was just so...good.

Ugh. That blowjob was messing with my head. There I was, sitting looking at her through rose colored glasses because she took my dick to the back of her throat. Men are pathetic.

“I like when you laugh,” she admitted quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers found my hair, and my head tipped back in pleasure when she started to scratch my scalp. “You sound so innocent.”

“Hmm.” 

“It’s sweet.”

“You’re sweet.” 

The words surprised her. I needed to shut my mouth until these endorphines or whatever hormones it was making me talk this way died off. 

Thankfully, she took pity on me and said nothing more. We laid there naked, with one of her legs weaved between mine, arm slung over my chest, until we both passed out.   
  


* * *

_Madge (11:35am):_ I think we failed.

A few days had passed, and I’d noticed a change in her since the last night we spent together. I stared down at her newest text, reading between the lines of her words and instantly sensed that what she meant was that _she_ had failed.

**Me (11:37am):** We didn’t fail.

_Madge (11:38am):_ I’m sorry.

**Me (11:38am):** Why the hell are you apologizing? 

_Madge (11:38am):_ Idk.

I was pretty sure it was the shortest text I’d ever received from her. Which almost felt worse than if I’d gotten back a long, in depth response. I sighed deeply and punched back a quick reply. 

**Me (11:40am):** Where are you?

_Madge (11:42am):_ On the east end of campus. By the hospital.

**Me (11:43am):** Alright. When’s clinical start?

She had been logging extra hours all week, trying to get ahead before the spring semester began. 

_Madge (11:44am):_ 1:30. 

_Madge (11:44am):_ Why??

**Me (11:45am):** I’ll be there in a min.

I drove over to the east end of campus and after stalking several students for a decent parking space, jogged into the main building where Madge was waiting.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, because truly the only in-depth experience I had with girls came from my eight year old sister. And there wasn’t much that a slice of pizza couldn’t solve in her world.

Madge made a face at my offer.

“You drove all the way over here to buy me pity food?”

“No, I came to have lunch with you.”

She softened a little, eyes seeming to brighten as she linked her hand in mine and we walked over to the crowded cafe to grab something fast before she had to return to class.

It wasn’t until we were seated, and she was stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork over and over again that I spoke. 

“I think it’s already dead.”

She looked up and offered a small smile before taking a bite.

“We didn’t fail, Madge.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’ve ever had a girl panic and give up midway through…”

Who was talking about other girls?

“It’s not like we didn’t have fun,” I mentioned casually, unable to help my growing smile at the thought of just how much fun we had had. The thought of her crouched down between my legs had been playing through my head since the other day and I had to fight to keep from thinking about it too hard…

“Yeah,” she said absently before exhaling a long breath. “We did.”

_“Lots_ of fun.”

“Stop,” she laughed despite herself, toying with her fork before bringing another bite up to her lips. “It _is_ fun, but it won’t be in a few months when the novelty of it all wears off.”

“Madge…”

“It’s fine. I’ll just get you a partner or something to keep you company if this goes on for too long.”

“A partner?”

“Of the sexual variety.”

“You’re being dramatic.” We tried one time and already she was giving up. 

“Just an offer.”

“Stop talking about other girls. Who cares about any of them, anyways?” I asked, confusion and frustration growing at the mention of past relationships and _partners._

“None of them matter. It was just sex, which I know sounds shitty, but it’s the truth.” I shrugged, unapologetically. “It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like I was in love with any of _them.”_

She sat up a little straighter in her chair, fork pausing as she stared back at me.

“Why did you say it like that?” she questioned.

“Like what?”

“You emphasized _them._ Like--” she stopped herself short, staring back at me with big blue eyes and slightly parted lips. 

I blinked, shifting my gaze awkwardly.

“Like _what?”_

“Like...you were implying that you loved _me.”_

I almost choked on my drink and coughed a little to force it back down the right pathway. Madge’s cheeks flushed as she watched, eyes boring into mine for answers that I wasn’t exactly sure I had.

She looked down at her watch as I caught my breath and started to collect her things.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have to get going.”

“Wait--”

“Sorry,” she said, beginning to retreat before turning back around to give my cheek a kiss. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I watched her walk—no, sprint—away before glancing down at my phone. The time read that she still had a full thirty minutes before she needed to leave and make it to the hospital on time.

And just like that, as if I couldn't have messed up the situation anymore, I managed to.  
  


* * *

_Game over._

“Fuck,” I sighed, tossing the remote on the other side of the couch in frustration. I tried to focus on the game I was playing, but all I could think about was Madge and how dejected she’d been that afternoon.

I wanted to text her, but I had no idea what time she ended her clinical rotation and didn’t want to bug her after how we’d left things.

I tried my best to remember how I’d said the words to her. If I really had emphasized _them_ in a way that implied I felt more now for her. I knew my feelings for Madge were growing more intense. Like it or not, she consumed much of my thoughts. The short list of things I cared and worried about now included her.

Even small things, like wondering if she’d like a song I heard on the radio or whether or not she’d choose the bow and arrow or axe as a weapon upgrade on _Final Tribute._ If she’d like the new sushi restaurant down in the District and if the other doctors were being nice to her during her rotation at the hospital. The thoughts rushed in and out of my head constantly and without permission. If that was what love did to you then yeah, maybe I did love her.

But, I’d never loved a girl before. None of the past girlfriends I’d had stuck and the rest didn’t stay in my thoughts past the next morning. They were great distractions. Great fun. But, feelings and emotions and attachment were not my strong suit. It was only going to end in hurt for somebody, anyways, so what was the point? 

My focus had always been on the kids, and it scared me to think about splitting it. Like they would suffer as a result. But with Madge, I didn’t think it would be considered suffering. I think she might even improve things for them.

None of it mattered, though, because I’d hurt her the other night and then turned around and did it again today. Despite my reassurance to her that everything would be fine and we’d figure it out, there was a nagging part of me that wondered what would happen if she never got used to it. If I would end up hurting her every time.

The doorbell rang below, pulling me out of my thoughts. Neither Finnick or Peeta were home, so I paused the game and jogged down from the loft to see who it was.

“Yep?” I asked into the intercom.

“It’s me,” Madge’s voice sounded, and immediately I hit the button for her to come up.

No sooner had I opened the front door for her and she was launching herself into my arms, wrapping her hands around my neck tightly and pulling my face down to her height.

I grunted in surprise and stumbled back a few steps before catching myself, hands instinctively gripping her hips as I pulled back.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to focus despite the fact she was up on her tiptoes, kissing my neck. 

“I want to try again.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in rotation?” I asked hoarsely as she sucked on my skin. She let go with a _pop_ , just long enough to rip off her shirt and toss it to the side.

“Nope.”

“Madge,” I said, literally restraining her as she tried once again to lunge towards me. “Calm down. We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do,” she insisted. “We are not going to be the couple that can’t have sex.”

“We’re not!”

“Currently, we are.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You don’t want to have sex?” she asked, pulling me up short at the accusation.

“I do! But--” I growled in frustration, not entirely sure of how to articulate my emotions. “It’ll be your first time and...I don’t know...it should be better than gritting your teeth to deal with the pain from rushing.”

“I don’t care, Gale. I just want--”

_“—I care!”_

She stopped speaking at my words, standing there in her bra in complete silence. She bit the corner of her lip, studying me carefully before swallowing thickly.

“Because you love me,” she said, rather than asked.

I breathed out loudly through my nose, heart pounding in my chest as I nodded my head slowly, confirming the truth she already knew.

“Yeah. Because I love you.” 

Madge expelled a short laugh, as if she were in disbelief and smiled up at me. 

“I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” I asked, lips turning up into a smile and then she was laughing more, relaxing into me at the spoken confessions.

“Mhm,” she nodded.

I leaned down, capturing her lips with mine, and when she deepend it, I picked her up and brought her over to the countertop to sit on. Her legs were wound around my hips, hands trailing up my arms as we continued to stand there in the kitchen and kiss.

“I want to try again,” she breathed against my mouth, voice soft but earnest. “Please?”

I swallowed heavily, pulling back far enough to meet her eyes where I could see the desperation for more clearly within them.

Christ, I wanted it too. 

“You sure?” I asked and her nod was all the confirmation I needed before I was letting her up off the counter and practically pulling her into my bedroom.

“My shirt!” she chuckled, looking back at it as we rounded the corner into the hallway. 

“It’ll be there when we finish.” Wasn’t like she needed it, anyways. 

We were quick to discard our clothing. Madge working the button of my jeans open as I maneuvered her bra. We stopped momentarily in between each article, getting lost in kisses and the feeling of our bodies against each other.

I fell back on the bed, bringing Madge with me and she straddled me expertly without breaking contact. The feeling of her heat over the top of my cock, separated by only two thin layers of fabric was enough to drive me mad, but when she started to slowly rock, grinding on top of me, I felt myself losing it.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” she gasped against me, breath fanning out over the side of my face.

Uh, yeah I had a condom.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, hanging onto her as I rolled over a little onto my side and rummaged through my dresser drawer. When I located one of the smooth foil packages, I ripped it open in one quick movement.

Madge lifted herself off of my legs, hovering so that her pussy was mere inches over my cock. So close, I could feel her heat. All It would take is one thrust for it to be inside.

I exhaled shakily when she held a hand out for the condom. 

“Can I put it on?” 

Fuck. Yes. 

I couldn’t find my voice, but only nodded before she reached between us and gave me a couple of experimental strokes, then she slid the condom on over my erection.

“Should we flip over, or…” she asked, words trailing off as she lifted one leg off of me in an effort to lay on the bed. I reached out, holding onto her arm to still her movements and shook my head.

“No, stay on top of me,” I instructed, gently. Her gaze darkened in the dim room and she moved to straddle me once more, positioning her hands on my shoulders to help steady her.

Shit, she looked good on my lap. 

The image of her, climbing up onto me naked and determined was one I could burn in my memory for ages. I reached out, clinging to her hips--for my benefit or hers, I wasn’t sure--and then Madge reached between us to help guide me to her entrance.

I held a breath when she started to sink down on me and my hands held onto her tighter as I felt myself begin to slip inside of her.

A groan escaped at the feeling. So wet and hot and _so tight._

When Madge hesitated, holding herself there with barely half of me inside of her, I leaned forward on my forearms to take one of her nipples in my mouth and massaged the other with my free hand. Her sweet sounds above me, and the way it made her pussy clench had my eyes squeezing shut, willing my body to not fuck this up.

Her movements were so incredibly slow, taking my throbbing cock down inch by inch until finally I was fully seated inside of her.

“Oh, _god.”_

“We did it,” Madge breathed against my shoulder, where her forehead rested. She remained perfectly still, adjusting, and I released a shallow breath.

“Hell yeah, we did.”

“I’m going to move now, okay?”

_Please._

“Okay.”

When she began a slow, languid motion, I could feel myself sliding in and out and the way she clenched around me each time I did. With each thrust, the headboard hit the wall, keeping the beat of our movements. 

Madge’s breath became more ragged, and her head bowed forward against mine. With her mouth so close, I could practically taste her breath, inhaling it like a man desperate for oxygen. 

My hands trailed up and down her sides, where her body dipped in slender, feminine curves before coming to rest on her ass. When I gripped it in my hands, helping to guide her movements a little quicker once I knew she could handle it, Madge whined into my shoulder.

_“Yes._ Keep...touching me,” she begged.

I slid one of my hands along her skin, down between her slick folds until I found her clit and then stroked it in smooth circles with my thumb. It was good we were alone in the apartment, because Madge cried out loudly, inhibition gone.

_“Ugnh!_ Gale, _yes,”_ she groaned, eyes crossing. I felt my balls tighten, orgasm impending just from the damn look on her face.

“Shit,” I said through clenched teeth, exhaling heavily through my nose. “You’re so beautiful. So--” I choked on my words. It felt too good to talk. My brain was shooting off in one thousand directions. Thoughts of Madge and that face that made me feel crazy, and how good it felt and that she was mine. 

_Mine._

“Are you close?” I rasped, feeling myself quickly reaching the point of no return. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding as the pad of my fingertip worked quicker across her clit. 

She nodded, breath stuttering as she clenched tighter around me.

_“Close…”_

I captured her face in my hands, bringing her lips to mine and captured her moans when I felt her orgasm impending. She shuddered against me, hips rocking, riding out her high and the feeling was so intense that it wasn’t long before I fell over the edge with her. 

Her body collapsed on top of mine, sedated. When I fell back into the pillows, she looked up at me with a lazy, but accusatory, smile.

“You _love_ me,” she sang, walking her finger up my chest.

I gave her butt a light smack before returning her smile.

“Yeah, I love you.”

She kissed my nose before resting her head in the crook of my neck, sighing in content.

“Yeah. I love you, back.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Thank you all so much for your patience! I hope you all enjoyed. We're really winding down now, aren't we? I can't believe there is only 3 chapters (and an epilogue) left!
> 
> In case you missed it, I uploaded the first chapter of a new story within the Panem Nightlock's universe. It is called 'The Game' and it focuses primarily on Delly and Thresh, but will also feature a lot of Katniss and even some of Delly's thoughts about the bet that took place between her and Peeta eventually! Fun stuff. You can access it on my works page, or through the Panem Nightlock's series. Make sure to subscribe to the series and not miss anything! 
> 
> I plan to post a few small scenes from Madge's POV from this chapter on tumblr soon, including a scene between her and Darius when he catches her practicing her *ahem* skills on a banana. So make sure to check that out as well if you're interested! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all of your love, support, comments and kudos! They are all very appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> I would greatly appreciate your feedback :)
> 
> I am awhiskeyriver on tumblr, come say hello!


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